Foster's Home for Parodies
by Ozzy-Zike Fan 10.57
Summary: As the title suggests, a collection of humorous FHFIF short stories that parody episodes/shorts from other cartoons and TV shows. Completely kid-friendly - only rated K-plus just to be on the safe side.
1. Don't Go Riding On That Ghost Train

**Hello everyone! I bring you the first parody in (hopefully) a little fun collection of stories centering around** _ **Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends**_ **, which is respectfully owned by Warner Bros. and Craig McCracken, that I've thought up one day.**

 **Here is a parody to** _ **Hey Arnold**_ **'s "Haunted Train" segment, which is respectfully owned by Nickelodeon. Hope you all enjoy it!**

* * *

It was a normal summer day for Mac and his friends Bloo, Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo over at Foster's. However, it was rather less droll than usual for them all because they were bored.

". . . So," said Mac in an attempt to break the silence, "you guys have any ideas?"

"How about we go shoot some hoops again?" suggested Wilt.

Coco shook her head. "Co-co-co, coco."

"Yeah, I guess it _does_ get old quickly."

"Ooh, ooh, I know!" Eduardo exclaimed happily. "We can always play video games!"

"Are you kidding?" asked Bloo. "We've already played video games! And completed them! Twice!"

"Even at the arcade?"

" _Even_ at the arcade! Man, I'm so gosh darn bored— _sooooo_ bored to death that I think I'll just lie down and die."

"Hi guys!" happily exclaimed a familiar voice. As the group of friends turned to the voice, they noticed Goo wearing her beaming smile walking up to them with her karaoke box. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Dying from boredom, what else?" Bloo sarcastically inquired.

"Not to worry—'cause I've got a great idea! _Who's up for KAAAAAARAOKEEEEEE_!?"

"Goo," Mac sighed, "we already did karaoke all day yesterday, remember?"

Goo's smile disappeared on that note. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. . . . Well I guess bringing my karaoke box along was a waste of time."

"C'mon, guys. Let's just go inside and watch TV." And with that, the six friends went inside, with Goo still dragging her karaoke box behind her.

In the TV room, the six friends watched the television with extreme boredom as a monotone weatherman was talking. "And there'll be continuous sunshine in Spokane."

Bloo simply, dully, made fun of the name Spokane. "Sunshine in Spokane. . . . Spohhhhh-kane. . . . Shpohhhhh-kaaaahhhhhn."

It was then that Frankie, her arms full with a basket of clothes, just about passed by before noticing the bored looks on her friends' faces.

"Hey guys, what's wrong?" asked Frankie. "If I didn't know any better, I would've said you're all bored out of your minds."

"Well Frankie," said Bloo dully, "get a grave ready for me, 'cause I'm about ready to get bored to death here."

Mac rolled his eyes at that. "Bloo, you can't die from boredom _literally_ —it's just a figure of speech."

"Really?" asked Goo before talking at her usual rapid pace. "'Cause I remember reading somewhere that during the 1920s a group of people were holding a dance-a-thon and it went on for hours and hours and hours and a couple actually died."

Eduardo gulped in fear at that. "Now I'm _muy_ scared of dancing."

"Goo," said Mac awkwardly with a raised eyebrow, "I don't think that has to do with getting bored to death, per se."

"I say there, Master Mac," Mr. Herriman piped up as he and Madame Foster just came into the picture, "I thought you and your friends would be outside enjoying yourselves."

"We were, Mr. Herriman," explained Mac, "but we decided to head inside since we have nothing else to do."

"Have you played a game of cards?"

"Oh, _s_ _í_ ," Eduardo nodded, "we played Go Fish and everything _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Herriman."

The Imaginary Rabbit rubbed his chin. "Hmm, I see."

"Oh, I know! Have you dearies tried your hand at word puzzles?" suggested Madame Foster.

Coco nodded. "Cococococo."

"I'm sorry," said Wilt, "but Coco's right. We've already played crosswords and everything—and they're all completed."

"A game of checkers?" suggested Mr. Herriman.

Bloo gave a bored roll of his eyes. "Been there, done that. On _every_ board game."

"I suggested we do karaoke," shrugged Goo, "but we did _that_ all day yesterday."

Frankie held her forehead, a pained look on her face. "Please Goo, don't remind us. When Cheese screamed in that thing yesterday, I was about ready to toss him out the window."

"How do think _I_ felt?" asked Bloo, hopping off the couch before tossing his arms up. "Heck, I would've been more than glad to have assisted you— _that's_ how much I hate Cheese. . . . He still falls short to Bendy and Terrence, but still."

"You and everybody else Bloo—believe me."

Madame Foster was watching the television, and on it were live-action, black-and-white trains crashing into one another. She then got an idea. "Say dearies, have I ever told you all about the first time I visited the train station when I was, oooh say Mac's age just about?"

"Okay," said Bloo in a deadpan tone before letting himself fall to the floor, "when I said I was going to lie down and die because of boredom, I'm gonna do it."

That was followed by everyone else (except Mr. Herriman) getting up and starting to go their separate ways from the old lady. . . .

"And first heard the legend of the haunted train?" Madame Foster said slyly.

The others immediately focused their attention on Madame Foster—even Bloo's curiosity got the best of him as he stood up.

"Haunted train? What haunted train? Please tell us!" begged the anxious-sounding blob Imaginary Friend.

"Are you quite sure you wish to hear of it?" asked Mr. Herriman with a raised eyebrow. "Madame Foster and I wouldn't want to frighten any of you."

"Are you joking?" asked Goo. "We've all seen Mac go crazy on sugar and _that_ alone is the scariest thing in the world."

At that, the little boy just frowned and stared at her with half-closed eyes.

"Even _I_ got scared on that note! But case in point, we're not scared of a little ghost story."

"Yeah—" agreed Bloo before slyly adding—"except Ed, of course, being the scaredy-waredy-baby-waby of the group."

The Spanglish-speaking Imaginary Friend, who was trembling for a moment, stopped before looking stern. "No, _Azul_ , Eduardo is _not_ a scaredy-baby!" His angry look softened to a smile as he looked to Madame Foster. "Please tell the story, Madame Foster."

The old lady shrugged. "If you say so, deary. Now then, it all started long before I was even born. . . ."

—

 _*(Story/Madame Foster's Narration)*_

 **Madame Foster:** "A long time ago, Engine 13 was heading for the train station, when the engineer went mad and drove his train off the tracks."

 **The engineer was a sickly pale-skinned man with a maniacal grin full of jagged teeth. As he drove Engine 13 off the tracks, it crashed into a field. The only trace of the crazed engineer was his burning glove still gripping the broken-off handle (which had a Dragon-like molding).**

 **Madame Foster:** "They never saw him, or the train again."

—

The old lady watched as her small audience stared on, waiting. "Some say he drove it straight to . . . you know."

"Down town?" guessed Mac.

"ALL the way down town, deary. To the very most southern point!"

"I'm sorry," said Wilt, "but do you mean—?"

"Indeed I do."

"Aye Chihuahua!" exclaimed Eduardo. "All the way to China?"

" _Pfft_!" snorted Bloo with a smirk. "Of course not! He obviously drove it down to the South Pole. What could be southy-er than that?"

"WRONG!" exclaimed Madame Foster with a roll of the tongue on the "R" sound. "He drove it straight down to the fiery depths of the Underworld!"

Her audience gasped with surprise, with the exception of Frankie as she just rolled her eyes as if to say "oh brother."

"Every year on the anniversary of its last ride," continued the old lady, "Engine 13 comes back, the mad engineer (with a hook for his lost hand) at the throttle. He heads for the old train station, picking up unwary passengers; these unsuspecting passengers are drawn onto the train by a blinding white light that hypnotizes them. Then, a strong smell overpowers them—some say it smells like rotten eggs, but _I'll_ tell you what it is. It's the smell of—"

"Coco?" interrupted the Bird-airplane-plant Imaginary Friend.

Madame Foster glanced at Coco before answering in a deadpan tone. "No deary, fire and brimstone." The old lady then continued the story in her chilling tone. "Then, they start to hear a horrible ear-splitting music; it shrieks and moans and sends chills down your spine—it's _naught_ of our world—it's . . . inhuman. After the music, the train enters . . ." She then threw her arms in the air, her cane in either hand. . . . " _The zone of darkness_."

Everyone (except Frankie, Mr. Herriman, and Eduardo) gasped.

"Oh no," said a trembling Eduardo, "not the zone of darkness."

Madame Foster, however, continued the story. "In the zone of darkness, the passengers can feel the heat of the flames. Then, the train comes to a complete stop. The doors open, and they're greeted by the red hot demon himself!"

Amongst Madame Foster's small audience, the friends muttered to one another; Frankie, however, just put a hand on her cheek as she shook her head.

With the conclusion of her ghost story, the old lady and her Imaginary Friend started to walk away.

But not before Madame Foster gave one final word. "You know what today is, dearies? It's the anniversary of the Ghost Train. I sure hate to be at the old train station tonight—you know, the one just out of town."

With everyone else still muttering behind him and Madame Foster as they departed, Mr. Herriman looked to his creator. "I have a feeling that somebody won't take heed in your advice, Madame Foster."

"Oh well," shrugged the old lady with a smirk, "at least they won't be bored."

* * *

 _Later On in the Rec Room . . ._

"Oooooh, look out Ed!" teased Bloo with a fake hook on either hand (or what served to be such) and waving it around. "I'm the mad engineer of the Ghost Train!"

"AAHHH!" screamed the Spanglish-speaking Friend in genuine fear as he ducked his head. "No, get away from me, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Bloo! Get away!"

"Bloo, will you cut it out!?" Mac snapped in Eduardo's defense. "It isn't funny! Besides there is no such thing as a 'Ghost Train'—let alone ghosts."

"Oh yeah?" asked Bloo with half-closed eyes and his arms folded. "Well I think there is."

"Me too!" piped up Goo. "Ghosts _totally_ exist, Mac. Don't you remember when we had a séance at your old apartment?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Goo," apologized Wilt, "but that was Cheese who made all that moaning."

"Cocococo?" asked Coco. "Cococococo-co-co."

Frankie's eyes were half-closed at whatever it was the Bird-airplane-plant Friend just said. "That was Bloo with a cold, Coco, and I would appreciate it if you guys didn't bring _that_ up again. Also, Mac's right—ghosts do _not_ exist. My grandma's always making up stories like that. Why else is the Thriller radio channel still on the air?"

"You mean Madame Foster has told stories through there, Frankie?" inquired Mac. "I didn't know that."

"Well, she didn't tell the stories herself—though she _did_ give the hosts something to tell, and the tale about the 'Ghost Train'—" Frankie air-quoted "Ghost Train" before continuing—"was just one of many, Mac. And besides, guys, if ghosts existed, then there should be physical evidence."

"What kind of physical evidence, Frankie?" asked Wilt in genuine curiosity.

"Well, you know—infrared photography, ectoplasmic samples, visible energy fields— _that_ kind of physical evidence."

Coco shrugged. "Cococococococo."

"What you mean some things can't be proven!? I say _everything_ can be proven—with the proof, the whole proof, and nothing but the proof!" exclaimed Bloo.

"Proof, shmoof—" Mac scoffed—"we don't have to prove _anything_. Ghosts don't exist, _period_. Need more proof than that?"

"Ooh, is that _fear_ in your voices, Mac and Frankie?" teased Goo.

"What? Scared?" chuckled Frankie in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"Yep," Bloo said with a smirk, half-closed eyes, and his arms folded across his chest, "you guys are just as scared as Ed, if not more. You two are scared of ghosts _and_ scared of being proved wrong."

"Can't we just stop talking about ghosts and say they don't exist?" Eduardo pleaded.

However, nobody heard the Spanglish-speaking Friend as Bloo continued, "I dare you guys to go with me and Goo down to the train station and see if the Ghost Train exists."

"And why should we?" Frankie inquired.

"Frankie, don't you know that you and Mac have been given a dare? It's something not to be taken lightly—it's a fact—once dared, the daree must _always_ do."

 _Man, karma stinks!_ Mac thought.

"But if you're too chicken," taunted Bloo, "we'd understand."

"Yeah," nodded Goo, "we understand."

". . . Oh no!" glared Mac. "We're not chicken, right Frankie?"

"I feel like I'm going to regret it later," said Frankie, "but Mac and I accept your challenge."

"All righty then," Goo said, her eyes half closed, "we all meet at the old train station—one hour after lights out."

"You're on!" declared Mac and Frankie in unison as they stared at the hyper girl and the blob Imaginary Friend with eyes in mere slits, the two latter staring back the same way.

* * *

Later that night, Mac and his friends went to the old train station via the Foster's bus and climbed out, while Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman stayed behind.

"Remember Grandma," Frankie said seriously to Madame Foster, "if we don't come back in an hour, call me—I have my cell. If I _don't_ answer, then you can worry."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," answered the old lady dismissively, "I'll do that, Frankie. Just you dearies be careful now."

"We will."

As the other friends headed inside, Mac noticed Eduardo trembling. "Ed, if you don't want to come with us, we'd understand—honestly we would."

Eduardo gulped. " _Gracias_ Mac, but no. Eduardo's scared and knows we're all going to die. But I'm not ch-ch-chicken."

Coco snuck up from behind Eduardo and screeched, "COCO!"

"AAAHHH!"

Watching the purple Spanglish-speaking Friend jump, the Bird-airplane-plant Imaginary Friend cackled in his expense.

"I'm sorry Coco, but that was _not_ okay!" scolded Wilt.

Coco, however, just glared and razzed her tongue out at the tall Friend.

"Where the heck is that train?" ranted Bloo. "If we have to _wait_ for it, then forget it."

"You're not holding back on us, are you Bloo?" taunted Mac.

"No, I'm saying that me plus waiting never works—I don't have that kind of attention span. I would have been better off sabotaging Old Man Rivers' lawn."

Frankie glared at that. "Uh, no Bloo, you would've been worse off."

"Give me one good reason why."

The twenty-two-year-old held a fist just an inch from Bloo's frightened face as she threatened, "How about my _fist_ , blob-boy?"

"You know, that's a pretty good reason."

"Okay guys," declared Mac, "we can wait."

* * *

Time passed by, and the group of friends still waited on that platform. Mac was leaning against a wall, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes half-closed; Eduardo and Wilt were sitting on a couple of wooden crates, back-to-back, the former trying not to fall asleep; Frankie was pacing; and Coco played a somewhat-foreboding tune from a harmonica, while Goo clicked her fingers and Bloo bobbed his head to the beat before the two latter started singing.

 **Goo:** _"They say he lost his mind."_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"Went crazy on that day."_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"And ran his train right off the track."_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"And drove it straight to . . . hey!"_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"Where's the engineer?"_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"Been waiting all night long."_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"Better show up soon."_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

 **Goo:** _"Or I'll have to say 'So what.'"_

 **Goo and Bloo:** _"Woo-woooooo!"_

 **Goo:** _"Been waiting for Engine 13!"_

 **Bloo:** _"Dah-dah, dah-dah!"_

" _WILL YOU GUYS KNOCK THAT OFF_!?" shouted a rather peeved Frankie, making everyone jump in surprise. "As if waiting for Engine 13 wasn't bad enough, I have you chuckle-heads annoying me with that stupid harmonica and that hare-brained song you're pulling out of your butt!"

Being the voice of reason in the group, Mac carefully walked up to Frankie during her rage before trying to calm her down. "Now Frankie, just take it easy. I understand that we've been waiting a long time, but maybe it's a sign. Maybe there isn't a haunted train or some mad engineer."

Frankie virtually never had a quarrel with the kind-hearted boy, nor had she snapped at him (at least directly), so for Mac to appease the twenty-two year-old in such a situation wasn't a problem for him as her scowl disappeared, looking a little humbled. "You're probably right, Mac. . . . Look, I'm sorry for blowing up like that, guys."

"Sorry, huh?" asked Bloo angrily as he approached Frankie. "Well, Frankie, guess what? I—" Mac angrily elbowed his Imaginary Friend in the side. The blue-colored blob Friend then stated dully, a ridge above his eyes, "Forgive you."

Suddenly a whistle started to fill the air.

"Coco," Mac said in a deadpan tone of voice, "please stop playing that harmonica."

Coco looked at her friend confusedly. "Cococococo."

"If you weren't playing the harmonica," said Frankie, her voice sounding both confused and intimidated, "then where's that sound . . ."

The redhead trailed off as the ground shook, the whistling sound grew louder, and a white light filled the tunnel, forcing a colony of Bats to fly out frantically. Soon the loud whistle was followed by the sound of a train stopping from behind the group of friends. Slowly turning around, the group of seven gasped at the sight of the spooky-looking train.

" _El tren fantasma_!" gasped a trembling Eduardo as he hid behind Wilt.

"Engine 13!" gasped Wilt.

"Yes! Ghosts _do_ exist!" happily exclaimed Bloo, jumping up and down. "We won the dare!"

"Up high!" happily exclaimed Goo with either arm in the air before the blob Friend jumped up for a high-five; everyone else (except Eduardo who still trembled at the sight of Engine 13) stared at the two with half-closed eyes.

It was at that moment that the door to one of the train cars slid open, a blinding white light filling the friends' vicinity. As the light died down, the wide-eyed group of seven found themselves _inside_ the haunted train.

"The white light!" whispered Wilt. "It pulled us on!"

Coco gulped. "Cococococo."

"Frankie?" asked Eduardo. "Can we go now?"

". . . Yes!" whimpered the twenty-two-year-old.

"What, and miss out on getting a good look of the mad engineer? No way!" protested Bloo.

"Forget about him—" said Mac uneasily with a clenched jaw—"we're leaving now, Bloo!"

Suddenly the door slid shut with a _slam_ on the group of friends and the train started moving.

"Okay, who's the moron that suggested finding the ghost train!?" blurted Bloo.

"Yeah!" piped up Goo.

Everyone else stared back at them, a serious ridge in their eyes and Eduardo's unibrow an equally serious straight line.

"What?" Goo and Bloo shrugged confusedly.

Soon a yellowish fume hung above their heads and it was only a moment before it reached Frankie's nose.

"Pew! What's that stench!?" complained the redhead.

"I don't want to point any fingers," quipped the blob Imaginary Friend, "but I suggest asking Wilt— _he's_ been playing the most basketball."

"It's not _that_ kind of smell, stupid!"

"Frankie's right—" Mac stated—"it smells like . . ."

As the little boy trailed off, everybody sniffed the air before exclaiming, "Rotten eggs!"

"Coco!" gagged Coco.

" _¡_ _Qu_ _é_ _asco!_ " coughed Eduardo.

"The smell of fire and brimstone! It's one of the signs!" Mac exclaimed.

Soon the air filled with something just as bad, if not worse, than the rank stench of rotten eggs/fire and brimstone.

"Uhh, do you guys hear what I hear?" Wilt inquired.

"You mean that horribly ear-splitting and possibly inhuman music?" queried Frankie.

"I dunno what you guys are talking about—" shrugged Goo—"the music really doesn't sound that bad as Madame Foster put it."

As the terrible music dragged on, Eduardo was the first to crack. " _AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH_! We're all going to die! We're all going to die! _AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH_!" The Latino Friend then ran from one end of the train car to the other, banging his fists on the door.

"Eduardo, control yourself!" Mac frantically exclaimed.

"I do believe in _loco_ engineers—I do believe in haunted trains—I do, I do, I do!"

Soon the lights began flickering before all went black. The only thing that could be seen were the friends' eyes.

"Coco!" exclaimed the frightened Bird-airplane-plant Imaginary Friend.

"Oh my gosh guys, it's the zone of darkness!" gasped Goo.

"Next stop is—" Mac started grimly before being interrupted.

"No, please Mac!" pleaded Bloo. "Don't say it, please!"

Outside the train car, an eerie red light filled the windows as the lights started to flicker again.

"Bloo," said Frankie in a trembling voice, "we're already there."

Throwing his arms in the air, the blob Imaginary Friend started screaming as he ran in a circle around his friends, with Wilt looking down at him uneasily.

"It's the underworld!" exclaimed Eduardo as he tried hiding his head, tears flying out of his eyes. "I can feel its flames blowing down Eduardo's neck!"

Amongst the flickering lights, a long shadow crept up behind the purple-furred Imaginary Friend before Bloo latched on to either of his friend's horns. As they looked up at the demon's eyes and grin that had an eerie similarity to the face of Disturbed's band mascot, Bloo and Eduardo screamed.

As for the demon himself, he laughed evilly . . . and stupidly.

Everybody paused as they recognized that laugh, for as the lights came back on, the demon turned out to be Mac's cruel big brother Terrence.

"Gotcha!" Terrence laughed.

" _Terrence_!" Everybody shouted angrily in unison at Mac's abusive brother.

" _You nearly scared us to death_!" Mac shouted angrily.

"What're you talking about?" shrugged the malevolent thirteen-year-old with a smirk. "I would've tried harder on you losers."

"I'm sorry, but that was _not_ okay!" glared Wilt.

"What are you doing here anyway, Terrence?" Frankie glowered.

"Duh! I followed you here!" sneered Terrence with a roll of his eyes. "Thought I might scare the pants off of all you losers! And I did too, didn't I? Hahaha! You should've seen the looks on your faces!"

While Terrence laughed on evilly, yet stupidly, the group of seven scowled darkly at him for a moment.

* * *

From outside the train, Mac slid the train car door opened, while Bloo and Frankie were holding onto Terrence like a wooden plank.

"I'm telling Mom on you, Mac!" yelled Terrence irately.

"Right," scoffed the little boy, "like she'll ever believe you."

And with that, Frankie and Bloo gave Terrence the old heave-ho and threw him into a muddy river that Engine 13 was just passing by. Bobbing out of the mud, spluttering, Terrence looked back at the disappearing train and shook his fist.

* * *

Back in their train car looking satisfied, Mac dusted his hands while Frankie and Bloo knuckle-pounded.

"I see it!" Goo exclaimed looking out the window. "It must be the fire!"

As everyone else looked out the windows, they saw the fiery inferno of what looked to be the underworld. Soon the train came to a complete stop.

"It is the end!" Bloo yelled out in a tragic sounding voice.

As everyone else looked defeated, Eduardo got an idea before turning around and looking at the fire hose coiled up in its old case. The Latino Friend's unibrow turned into a serious straight line as he declared boldly, "I know what we must do."

As he headed for the fire hose, with his friends staring at him in disbelief, Eduardo uncoiled it and held the nozzle at the ready.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Ed?" asked Wilt.

"I might be chicken," declared the purple-furred Friend, "but I'm no quitter. Open the door."

Gulping for a second, Frankie pulled the door open and there everyone was greeted by an ominous looking silhouette.

"Back off, _demonio_!" shouted Eduardo as he turned on the hose full blast.

The supposed demon screamed and spluttered. "Stop! I give up! I give up!"

As Eduardo turned off the water, he and his other friends looked out confusedly only to see a bunch of workers with hard hats, including the "demon" who looked very much like Quinn the pizza delivery guy.

"What did I do? What did I do?" asked Quinn.

"Weird—" stated Bloo—"that demon looks familiar."

"Err, Bloo," Mac said uneasily, "I don't think he's a demon."

"Hey, what's going on here!?" exclaimed somebody from off-screen with a voice that uncannily sounded like Kevin Michael Richardson's.

Turning around, the seven confused friends stared at a tall brawny engineer who looked like Delroy Lindo with a Paul Sr. style moustache. "What are y'all doing here? Nobody's allowed on the train but the steel mill workers."

"The steel mill?" asked Mac in disbelief. "We're at the steel mill?"

"Well sure, kid—where'd you think you were?"

"You mean the train isn't haunted?" Bloo queried.

"Haunted?" inquired the engineer in surprise before face-palming himself in realization. "Oh man, not that story again. Listen, the train here's for relief workers."

"But what about the smell?" asked Frankie.

The engineer cocked an eyebrow. "Girl, have you ever been to a steel mill before? It's the sulfur here." He then spoke aside to them. "Smells like rotten eggs, don't it?"

"Oh, _s_ _í_ ," nodded Eduardo, "it smells _muy_ much like rotten eggs. But what about the lights?"

"The lights?" asked the engineer. "They're always going on and off in the car here, big guy."

"Cocococo?" asked Coco.

"Yeah, what about that ear-splitting music?" asked Bloo. "I thought my ears would explode. If I had any."

"Ah well," grumbled the engineer before pulling out an accordion, "I guess some people don't appreciate the polka."

"Actually," Goo grinned, "I thought it was pretty good."

"Well thank you, young lady." The engineer then became serious again. "But anyhow, does that explain everything?"

Mac sighed. "Yes, sir."

"We're sorry. Is that okay?" apologized Wilt.

"Eh, yeah," shrugged the engineer, "I guess so—no harm, no foul. Now then, let's get y'all back on the right train home."

* * *

Everyone else met up with Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman back on the Foster's bus as Frankie drove everyone back.

"A fire hose against the fires of the underworld?" inquired Mr. Herriman. "I find that actually humorous, Master Eduardo."

"I guess that _is_ funny isn't it, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Herriman?" chuckled Eduardo.

"Not a bad plan at all, hee-hee-hee!" cackled Madame Foster jovially.

"I guess we all let our imaginations get the best of us didn't we?" Wilt grinned.

"Yeah," sighed a crestfallen Goo, "I guess so."

Bloo pouted. "I can't believe we didn't find that haunted train."

Mac smirked. "I think you set us up, Madame Foster."

Coco firmly nodded once in agreement, a smirk on her beak. "Co-co."

"Well, at least you dearies weren't bored were ya?" shrugged the old lady.

"Grandma," smirked Frankie, "you knew all along there was no haunted train."

Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster looked at one and the other with sly half-closed eyes before the latter smirked. "Well now we didn't say that."

* * *

While the group of friends headed back to Foster's, elsewhere stomping and trying to clean off the mud that dried on his clothes was Terrence, muttering angrily himself. He didn't notice the train tracks before he heard Engine 13 coming.

As the train headed for him, a screaming Terrence ducked into a nearby bush before peering out, trembling, as a figure that matched the description of the mad engineer materialized out of nowhere with an accordion in his hands as he sang a foreboding song in a deep voice.

* * *

 **So what did you think of the short story? Notice some of the other references that were used in a few** _ **FHFIF**_ **episodes? As a recap, it's the first in a series of other short parodies, so expect more to be written (eventually). Feel free to review!**

 **(P.S.: Please note that when writing reviews, please no profanity or blasphemy. For examples, check out the guidelines in my profile.**

 **Until then, keep up the good writing!)**


	2. Hypnosis is for the Birds

**Guess who? LOL. I'm back again with another parody involving most, if not all, our favorite main characters from** _ **Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends**_ **. The story here is a parody to an old** _ **Yogi Bear**_ **short where Ranger Smith tried hypnotizing Yogi, who in turn pretended to hypnotize a sleeping Boo-Boo into a Bird (and accidentally succeeds at it). Anybody remember that episode? Because I can't remember the title of it ever since Boomerang took the show off the air. In any case, since I've already announced that FHFIF is owned by someone else, I'm just going to say that** _ **Yogi Bear**_ **is respectfully owned by Hanna-Barbera and Warner Bros.**

 **Anyway, enjoy the second parody!**

* * *

In her room, Frankie was on the phone with her friend Kathy.

"Yes Kathy," Frankie nodded as she spoke on her cell phone, "I got the book you were talking about— _Hypnosis Made Easy_."

On her computer desk was the aforementioned book, which had a generic-looking cover that was simply just the title and nothing else.

"No," Frankie answered, "I haven't used hypnosis yet—I just started reading the book. Just for gags, really—who am I supposed to hypnotize? It's tempting, but I doubt Herriman would be easy. I dunno, could be the fact that he's always uptight . . . or it could be his monocle. Look Kathy, I promise I'll figure something out okay?"

"What's going on dearie?" asked Madame Foster curiously as she entered her granddaughter's room.

Frankie looked toward the old lady for a second. "Be with you in a bit Grandma." The twenty-two-year-old went back to speaking to her friend. "Sorry Kathy, my grandma just walked in. Yeah, I'll tell her—talk to you later Kathy."

As her granddaughter turned her cell phone off, Madame Foster smiled cheerfully. "Ohh, that was your friend wasn't it Frankie dear?"

"Yep, she wanted me to tell you she said 'hi' for one."

Straightening her glasses, the old lady noticed the book. "That's nice dearie. Hmm, looks interesting."

"Yeah, Kathy's been pestering me about getting it and wanted me to practice it."

"Up to no good are we dear?" Madame Foster smirked slyly.

Frankie returned the same smirk as she joked. "I solemnly swear that, heh-heh. Nah, I only read it just to amuse her. Besides, who am I supposed to hypnotize?"

"You can always try it on Bloo."

"Hmm . . . tempting, but no—it'll only cause more problems, knowing that little trouble-maker. Even so, Mac probably wouldn't like it."

"Oh I doubt that dearie, eheheheheh. But I understand—and besides, it's not like he or Mac are the only other options, considering we have—"

"Wait," interrupted the redhead as she rose her hand, "you weren't implying I would try to hypnotize Mac, were you Grandma?"

"Of course not, dearie," smiled the old lady, "I'm just saying."

"All right, I just wanted to make sure. I mean hypnosis never hurt anyone per se, but I couldn't imagine doing that."

"Mac is a sweet boy after all—rarely gets into trouble."

"Exactly. And he's pretty smart too remember—he wouldn't be easy to hypnotize anyway." Frankie paused before curiosity got the best of her. ". . . Or would he?"

Madame Foster looked uneasy by the tone of her granddaughter's voice. "Uh-oh."

* * *

Speaking of Mac, the aforementioned boy was down in the kitchen along with some of his friends Wilt, Coco, and Bloo. He and the two former just finished cleaning up a mess started by Bloo. Three of the friends looked winded while the blue-colored blob friend just leaned against the stove sipping from a juice box. Judging by the look on the three friends' faces, not to mention a mop, bucket, spray bottle, and sponge in their hands, it seemed they finished cleaning up a big mess—no doubt started by Bloo.

"How, when, why did you do it, Bloo?" Mac glared.

The blob Imaginary Friend looked at his creator with half-closed eyes and shrugged. "Sandwich catastrophe, a couple hours ago, things got out of hand."

Using his only hand, Wilt wiped his brow. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand how a sandwich mishap could lead to a mess that large."

Coco pointed at Bloo with either foot before scolding. "Cococococococo."

"I agree," Mac nodded, "you should be lucky that neither Frankie nor Mr. Herriman came down to see it. I can't imagine how ticked off they would have been."

Bloo just ignored it completely as he thought of something else. "You know what's kinda ironic, Mac? You just said that you couldn't 'imagine' whatever it was you just said."

"So?"

"Well we _are_ in a place full of _Imaginary_ Friends. Imagine, imaginary—you know."

". . . You didn't hear a word Coco and I said, did you?"

"Nah, not really." The blue-colored blob then thought of something else as he took another sip from his juice. "Hey guys, have you seen Eduardo lately? I for one didn't see him earlier."

"That's because he was up last night playing that computer game, remember?" reminded Wilt.

"Computer game, let me think. Oh yeah. . . . Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

Frankie then entered the kitchen, a thin smile on her face. "Oh there you are, Mac. Just the person I'm looking for."

Mac turned toward Bloo and whispered. "I'll cover you, but you owe us all big time." He then faced the twenty-two-year-old. "Frankie, I can expla—"

"No need to explain anything, Mac. I just want to discuss something serious with you. Follow me up to my room please."

"Okay."

As Mac and Frankie left the kitchen, Coco looked up at Wilt. "Cocococo?"

"I don't know," Wilt said uneasily, "but the way Frankie kept smiling and the tone in her voice is, well, concerning."

"So what's to worry about?" Bloo shrugged.

* * *

As they walked into her room, Frankie looked down at Mac. "You just sit tight for a second, Mac. I'll be with you in a flash."

As the redhead left temporarily, Mac looked toward Madame Foster, who was still present in the room. "Err, Madame Foster, what's going on? Does Frankie know about what happened?"

The old lady seemed confused. "What happened, dearie?"

"Bloo made a big mess in the kitchen—but my friends and I cleaned it up. Please tell Frankie to take it easy on him."

"Ohh, that. Frankie doesn't know about that."

". . . She doesn't?"

"No, not at all. But since the kitchen got cleaned up, it'll be our little secret."

Mac wiped his brow in relief. "Whew, that's good to hear. But wait, if Frankie brought me up here _not_ because of that, then why did she need me?"

Madame Foster looked around to make sure Frankie wouldn't eavesdrop on her. "Well Mac, what would you say that Frankie was using you as, if you pardon the expression, a 'test subject' in hypnosis?"

"Hypnosis? Everybody knows that doesn't work—even the so-called 'hypnotic' Imaginary Friends have been unsuccessful."

"Frankie thought the same thing too, dearie."

"Then why does she even bother?"

"Well, to make a long story short, her friend wanted my granddaughter to try it out and curiosity got the best of her."

Mac then glanced over at Frankie's book before a thought came to him. "Hmmm . . . I see. Do you think I should just play along and pretend to be hypnotized?"

Madame Foster shrugged. "I don't see why not. Who knows? Maybe the two of us will get a boot out of it."

"Yeah, I guess so. But also I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"You're all heart, Mac. Hope you can keep a straight face, though."

The little boy smirked. "I will if you will."

The old lady winked. "Of course, dearie."

"I'm ready!" called Frankie as she came back. "Okay Mac, stay perfectly still for me, all right?"

Mac just shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, Frankie."

Bending to his height, Frankie widened her eyes and stared at him. "Mac, look deep into my eyes."

The little boy stared the twenty-two-year-old straight in the eye. "Okay, I'm looking."

"No, deeply. Look deeply."

Mac widened his eyes. "Oh, I'm deep."

She then waved her fingers in front of his face. "Listen, Mac. You are getting sleepy. Sleeeeeepyyyyy. Your eyes are growing tired."

The little boy then made his eyelids look droopy.

"When I click my fingers, Mac," said Frankie as she kept her eyes fixed on Mac's, "you will be in a deeeeeep sleeeeeeep."

As the redhead clicked her fingers, the little boy rested his head on either shoulder and faked a soft snore as he pretended.

Frankie gasped in happy surprise. "Hey, it works. It actually works!"

Madame Foster tried keeping a straight face. "Indeed."

"Mac, can you hear me?" asked Frankie.

Mac paused in his fake-snoring and answered softly still pretending sleep, "Yes."

"Now listen Mac, you are _not_ a little boy anymore. _You_ are a Dog. Now bark like a Dog."

"Arf! Arf! Arf!" The way Mac barked sounded like a Puppy's bark.

"No! Like a _big_ Dog, Mac, a _big_ Dog!"

The faux-sleepy boy deepened and raised his voice a bit. "WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!"

The results made Frankie squeal with excitement. "It worked Grandma, it worked! Mac actually thinks he's a Dog!"

"Good for you, dearie eheheheh!" chuckled Madame Foster. "Oh, but do change him back Frankie. I can't imagine what his mother would think."

"Don't worry, I will." Frankie then faced Mac again. "Now listen to me Mac, when I count to three and click my fingers again, you will wake up as your normal human self. You will have no recollection of what happened. One . . . two . . . three. . . ."

After Frankie clicked her fingers again, Mac woke up from his "deep sleep" and pretended to not know what happened. "Huh? What just happened Frankie? I was dreaming that I was burying a bone or something."

"Oh it's nothing Mac," smiled Frankie in faux-innocence as she patted him on the head, "you just run along and have fun with your friends."

"Okay, talk to you later Frankie. See you 'round Madame Foster."

The old lady waved her hand goodbye as the little boy left the room. "So long, dearie."

With a look of satisfaction, Frankie folded her arms across her chest. "Like I said Grandma: Hypnosis never hurt anyone."

* * *

Returning to his friends, Mac saw that they looked concerned.

"Coco?" queried the Bird-plant-airplane Imaginary Friend.

"Yeah, well?" inquired Wilt.

Mac shrugged. "Well what?"

"Well did you get me out of trouble!?" Bloo asked as he threw his arms in exasperation.

"Ohhh, that. Nothing to worry about guys—Frankie didn't even know about it."

The blob Imaginary Friend looked dumbfounded. "You mean she spoke to you for nothing?"

"Not really. First of all, I wanted to keep you in a little suspense and make you feel guilty, Bloo. Second of all, Frankie was experimenting with hypnosis and she picked me as her blind volunteer."

"I'm sorry," started the tall red Imaginary Friend, "but I don't think hypnosis actually works."

Mac just shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't, Wilt. I just went along with the gag and pretended for her. No use in hurting her feelings."

"Hold the phone Mac," said Bloo as he raised either hand, "if you're saying that hypnosis doesn't work, then what does that make the hypnotic Imaginary Friends that crossed here? Completely useless?"

The little boy shook his head. "No Bloo, they're not useless—they have a lot of other great qualities and talents. I'm just saying that it can't be done. Follow me guys."

* * *

As they entered Bloo's shared room, the four friends found Eduardo fast asleep either part of the bunk.

"Cocococococo?" whispered Coco.

"Don't worry," chuckled Mac quietly, "I won't wake Ed up. Just watch me and you'll get the point that hypnosis is phony."

"I dunno," Wilt doubted, "because Ed's a pretty light sleeper."

Bloo looked up at the tall red Friend with half-closed eyes. "Wish I could say the same thing for his snoring, you know?"

"Shh," whispered Mac, "trust me guys, I know what I'm doing. Just follow me."

As they tip-toed over to the sleeping Latino Friend, Mac leaned into his ear.

"Eduardo?" whispered Mac. "Are you asleep?"

Eduardo paused in the middle of his snoring as he sleepily responded. " _S_ _í_." He then went back to snoring, still fast asleep.

"Listen closely Eduardo," whispered Mac, his tone similar to that of Frankie's earlier, "you are not an Imaginary Friend anymore. When I click my fingers, you will become a Bird. I repeat, _you_ will become a _Bird_."

Mac clicked his fingers together, yet nothing happened.

"There, you see Bloo?" smiled Mac in a normal tone of voice. "I told you hypnosis was nonsense."

"Fweep! Fweep!" **(A/N: Pretend that sounded like Eduardo's voice.)**

Mac stared at Bloo with half-closed eyes, "Okay Bloo, that's really not funny."

"What?" shrugged Bloo. "I didn't make that sound."

The little boy then looked confused. "You didn't? Then if you didn't make that sound, or Wilt, or Coco, then who did?"

"Fweep! Fweep!"

The four friends spun around and were shocked to see Eduardo still asleep yet standing up and out of bed, a smile on his face and flapping his arms like a Bird. "Fweep, fweep! Fweep, fweep!"

"Coco!" gasped the Bird-airplane-plant Friend.

"'Oh no' is right!" exclaimed Wilt.

"Eduardo thinks he's a Bird! Hypnosis actually worked! But it couldn't be!" exclaimed Mac in dread.

Bloo shrugged. "Well at least we closed the window."

Oh, but he was wrong, for the window was wide opened and Eduardo flew out of it— _literally_.

Bloo's eyes widened. "Well I err thought it was closed. Hey Ed, come back!"

The four friends looked out the window and watched as the purple Spanglish-speaking Friend flapped his arms and flew around as he "chirped" like a Bird.

"I'm sorry," Wilt started, "but that is _not_ okay. That completely defies the laws of nature. And physics. And gravity. Maybe even the height law."

"Four laws? I _can't_ go back to prison!" exclaimed Bloo dramatically.

Coco looked to the little boy in concern. "Cococococococo?"

"We have to tell Frankie—" Mac answered— "she'll know what to do."

* * *

"Well Grandma," smiled Frankie back up in her room, "I just told Kathy that I hypnotized Mac. She asked all sorts of questions about it."

"Oh yes," nodded a distracted-looking Madame Foster, "I'm sure she did dearie."

"What's on your mind?"

"Oh nothing Frankie—it's not like I have a secret to hide. Or something."

The twenty-two-year-old chuckled. "Always with the jokes, huh Grandma?"

"Err, yep—I got a million of them dearie, hee-hee."

Since the door to Frankie's room was already opened, Mac and three of his friends slid to a halt and barged in.

"Frankie! Madame Foster! We have a problem!" exclaimed Mac in panic.

"What? What's going Mac? Something on fire?" Madame Foster asked frantically.

"Is _The Loved and the Loveless_ cancelled?" gasped Frankie in dread.

"Wait, what?" Mac inquired in dumbstruck confusion before remembering what he and his friends came up for. "No, worse! It's Eduardo!"

"Is he get hurt? Did he run away again?"

"He thinks he's a Bird and is flying around the house!"

There was a pause before Frankie relaxed and chuckled. "That's a good one Mac—you guys nearly got me on that."

"Frankie, I'm serious. I was trying to make a point to Bloo that hypnosis doesn't work so I just whispered to Ed while he was asleep and made him think he was a Bird."

"Hypnosis? What're you talking about?"

"Mac," said Madame Foster uneasily, "I think we better come clean dearie."

"Come clean about what?" asked Frankie.

Mac gulped for a brief moment. "Madame Foster clued me in on you trying to hypnotize me. So I pretended to be hypnotized so I wouldn't hurt your feelings."

Madame Foster looked down in guilt. "It's true dearie."

"I'm surprised at you Mac!" said Frankie in shock. "I understand that you only meant good intentions, but if you just told me I would've understood."

"I know, I know," said Mac, "but now we have a much bigger problem. We need to get Eduardo before he flies away."

The twenty-two-year-old gulped in fear. "Or worse: Mr. Herriman finds out. We gotta do something!"

"Right!" exclaimed Madame Foster. "To the lawn dearies!"

And with that, Madame Foster, Bloo, Coco, and Wilt headed outside.

"Why do all the crazy things that happen here somehow involve you and/or your friends, Mac?" asked Frankie dully.

"To be honest with you Frankie," shrugged Mac confusedly, "I've wondered the same thing, but I have yet to find the answer to that. But we're in it together, so the sooner we get out of the mess we're in the better."

* * *

Outside Mac, Frankie, Madame Foster, Bloo, Coco, and Wilt scoured the skies for Eduardo. While Frankie looked through a pair of binoculars, everyone else looked with nothing else but their shielded eyes.

"No sign of any large flying friendly Spanglish-speaking purple cowards!" reported Bloo before he seemed to be looking at the readers. "Boy _that_ was a mouthful."

"There he is!" Frankie exclaimed.

Following where the redhead was looking, the group looked up and saw Eduardo flying around the house.

"Fweep, fweep! Fweep, fweep, fweep!" twittered Eduardo as he headed for a tree.

"Cococococo!" exclaimed Coco.

"He's gonna hit that that tree!" Wilt panicked.

Mac hid his eyes. "I can't look!"

 _BONK_!

As Eduardo hit the tree, he slid down and landed on a thick branch that was sticking out. As he did so, he seemed to snap out of the current state he was in.

"Ooooh, what happened?" asked the Spanglish-speaking Friend to himself as he rubbed his sore head. Gaining his bearings, he looked shocked to see that he was sitting on a branch before looking down and seeing where he was now. "Aye, Chihuahua! How did I get up here!? HEEEELLLLP! Somebody get me down! Eduardo's _muy_ scared of heights!"

"Hold on Eduardo! We'll get you down!" Mac called up.

Eduardo clung to the tree. "I am _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Mac I am!"

* * *

After setting up a trampoline, the group of friends back on solid ground looked up at the frightened Latino Friend.

"Not to worry dearie—we'll have you down safe and sound!" called up Madame Foster.

Eduardo gulped. "I don't know about that! Is that trampoline safe!?"

Bloo rolled his eyes and groaned as he looked at his other friends. "Ugh, it's pointless. There's no way he's going to jump onto the trampoline."

Mac folded his arms across his chest. "Then prove to Ed that the trampoline's safe to jump on."

"All right—I will."

Bloo climbed onto the trampoline before calling up. "Watch closely, Ed! The trampoline is totally safe! Okay!?" The blob Imaginary Friend then started bouncing on it, eventually enjoying himself. "Hey, what a fun idea."

He started to bounce as high as the tree was tall.

Seeing one of his friends up at his level, Eduardo looked happy. "Oh _hola_ , Bloo."

Before he could answer back, however, Bloo got attacked by a Woodpecker. "Hey! Get off me!"

Distracted by the angry Woodpecker pecking at his head, Bloo fell back toward Earth and somehow tore a hole through the trampoline, with everyone witnessing him wincing out of sympathy.

Climbing out of the hole, the blob Imaginary Friend looked relieved (yet pained) as he wiped his brow and smirked out of the fact that the Woodpecker was gone. Or so he thought.

As the Woodpecker came back to peck him on the head again, Bloo walked away from everyone as he stated dully. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow…"

"Oh, _muy_ strange—" frowned Eduardo in confusion— "I never thought Bloo wouldn't stop to say 'hi.' Oh well."

* * *

"I'm sorry," said Wilt as he had a jetpack strapped to his back, "but are you sure it'll work, Madame Foster?"

"Oh, absolutely dearie—" nodded the old lady with a remote control in her hand— "I've used it a number of times in my youth, and it never failed me before."

"Okay, since you put it that way."

"Cocococococo?" asked Coco.

"Sure Eduardo might be heavier," smiled Frankie, "but as long as Wilt keeps a good grip on him, and that my grandma keeps the jetpack steady, it'll be—"

"A cake-walk?" answered Mac.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I don't get—what does saving Eduardo out of a tree with a jetpack have anything to do with cake?" shrugged Bloo in a clueless manner.

Mac sighed. "I'll explain in detail later."

"Ready, Wilt?" asked Madame Foster.

The tall red Imaginary Friend gave a thumbs-up as he smiled. "All set."

"Okeydokey then, dearie." The old lady then pressed the button on her remote.

 _BOOM_!

As the smoke cleared around Wilt, the smile from his face was gone and he was covered in soot smudges. The only thing left of the jetpack were the two straps.

Everyone looked stunned, yet pained in sympathy.

Except Madame Foster, when she stared at the remote in confusion. "Hmm, that's strange. It must've blown a fuse or something."

* * *

The next idea the group of friends came up with was, believe it or not, a hot-air balloon staked to the ground.

"Gosh," said Mac as he, Bloo, Wilt, and Coco climbed into the basket, "I sure hope it works."

Coco nodded her head. "Coco."

"Don't worry, Mac," rest-assured Frankie, "it's going to work. Not only will it carry you guys, it'll also carry Eduardo no problem. Wilt, you control the hot air, okay?"

The red Imaginary Friend saluted with his only hand. "No problem, Frankie."

"Oh snap!" exclaimed Bloo. "I forgot to take that Woodpecker repellent while I got out of the bathroom."

"Trust me Bloo," smirked Frankie with a raised eyebrow, "you and everyone else will be back on solid ground in no time."

"So what's your point, Frankie?"

Before the two could speak further, Wilt got the balloon to float upward and in front of Eduardo. The friends looked happy to see their Spanglish-speaking friend as they opened the basket door.

"Hop aboard Eduardo!" smiled Mac.

The giant purple Friend gulped as he tried to keep his balance on the branch. "Okay, here goes nothing."

After a moment of struggling, Eduardo jumped in, causing a jolt in the balloon and forcing it back away from the tree, snapping the rope.

"Oh no!" gasped Frankie.

"I'm sorry to say," frowned Wilt in concern, "but that doesn't look good."

Coco nodded. "Coco."

"What do we do now, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Mac?" shrugged Eduardo.

"Not much guys," smiled Mac innocently, "since it looks like we're going up in the world."

"Hey guys, look!" Bloo smiled. "I can see Mac's apartment building from up here."

And with that, the hot-air balloon floated around the house.

Up in Mr. Herriman's office, the said Rabbit Imaginary Friend and Jackie Khones were in the middle of a game of chess. It was then that the small green Imaginary Friend looked out the window to see the hot-air balloon floating around with Mac and his friends waving to him.

Jackie looked astonished. "Huh, well there's somethin' ya don't see every day."

"What's that, Master Khones?" inquired Mr. Herriman as he looked up from the chessboard.

"Mac and his buddies flyin' in a hot-air balloon."

"Oh, come now, that would be ridiculous." However, as he looked out, the Rabbit Imaginary Friend gasped as his eyes shot wide. "Good heavens!" He then fumbled around for the phone.

Back outside, Frankie looked worried. "Oh man, that is bad, Grandma—that is SO bad!"

"Now, now, Frankie," said Madame Foster as she tried to rest-assure her granddaughter, "let's try to look on the bright side—Wilt's in control of the balloon, for starters. Besides, it could be worse."

Unfortunately, things _could_ , and _did_ , become worse as Frankie's cell phone started ringing.

With a face similar to a Deer in headlights, Frankie picked up her phone, her eye twitching as on the other end was a panicking Mr. Herriman.

" _Miss Francis! Master Mac and his friends are stuck in a hot-air balloon!_ " exclaimed Mr. Herriman with severe worry in his voice. " _Miss Francis!? Can you hear me, Miss Francis!?_ "

"I know! I know! I KNOOOOWWWWWW!" wailed Frankie as she bent to her grandmother's height and tearlessly cried on her grandmother's shoulder.

Madame Foster just patted her distraught granddaughter's shoulder in sympathy. "There, there, dearie." She then just stared up at the hot-air balloon with an expressionless stare and sigh.

* * *

 **Well, that was my second parody, everyone. What are your thoughts? Did you see any other references that I used in the short story?**

 **Feel free to let me know in the reviews, but remember: Please no profanity/blasphemy. If you're confused, feel free to look on my profile for the guidelines.**

 **Until then, keep up the good writing!**


	3. Nab That Cash

**Nab That Cash**

 **I'm back with another parody starring your favorite FHFIF characters! I'm parodying** _ **The Golden Girls**_ **episode "Grab That Dough"** — **hope the story here is just as funny (but more kid-friendly) with maybe a slight** _ **Double Dare 2000**_ **theme mixed in.** _ **Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends**_ **and** _ **The Golden Girls**_ **are owned by their respective companies. Enjoy!**

* * *

Running down the street was Mac, wearing his usual smile. "Oh man I can't wait to tell the others!" However, something made the little boy more excited than usual.

Finally arriving at Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, Mac swung the doors open like a cowboy swinging open bardoors.

"Hi Mac!" greeted Flutter Nutter the pink Squirrel-like Imaginary Friend.

"Hey Flutter Nutter!" Mac greeted back.

"You seem happy today. Did you just have a test and ace it?"

"That's only the half of it. Have you seen Bloo and the others around today? I've gotta tell them the great news."

"They should be with Frankie, Madame Foster, and Mr. Herriman in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Flutter Nutter."

* * *

Down in the kitchen, Bloo and his friends were helping Frankie, her grandmother Madame Foster, and the latter's Rabbit Imaginary Friend Mr. Herriman prepare for tonight's dinner.

"I'm telling you, guys," protested Bloo, "that we should just skip making dinner and order take-out. It'll save up on time and dishes that way."

" _Pfft_! Please, Bloo," Frankie scoffed, "let's be realistic. We'll still be using dishes, ordering take-out for everyone will cost more money than we currently have, and you're just trying to sneak out of doing any kind of work."

"Well, if you want to be technological about it."

"Master Blooregard, you mean 'technical,' don't you?" Mr. Herriman inquired.

"Technological, technical—what's the difference?" shrugged the blue-colored blob Friend.

Before anyone could answer, Mac barged into the kitchen. "Guys, I have some great news!"

"Oh, did you get a _perfecto_ score on a test today?" Eduardo smiled amiably.

"That's only the half of it. The teacher gave out prizes for the highest scores, and scoring a hundred percent, I got _the_ best prize ever!"

"That's great Mac—" smiled Wilt— "what did you get?"

"Cocococo?" queried Coco.

"Nope, not a new video game," responded Mac, "even though that would be really great. No, it'll cause you guys to cheer, clap your hands, and dance around as well."

"Would it have anything to do with the faces of Washington, Lincoln, Grant, or better yet Benjamin Franklin, dearie?" winked Madame Foster.

"Close. . . . I just won tickets for me and my choice of seven friends to compete in the game show Nab That Cash! And right away I thought of you guys!"

Frankie squinted one eye suspiciously. "Hold the phone, Mac. . . . 'Nab That Cash'? You don't mean that ridiculous game show where people guess trivia questions and humiliate themselves just for the sake of a dollar and outrageous prizes, do you?"

"That's the one!"

Frankie squealed in excitement, Bloo cheered and danced around like in the FHFIF episode "Ticket to Rod," Coco jumped up and down exitedly, Madame Foster cheered like the time Uncle Pockets gave her that invitation to a day spa in "Bloo Done It," and Eduardo cheered as he pulled Mr. Herriman and Wilt with each arm into a hug, much to the former's momentary surprise.

"That is wonderful news indeed, Master Mac!" agreed Mr. Herriman in a happy tone. "Madame Foster and myself have never missed an episode."

"True that—" nodded the old lady— "and Frankie watched the show with us ever since she was Jackie Khones' height."

"When do we leave, Mac?" Frankie queried.

Mac looked at the tickets and read them out loud. "It says that we arrive at Hollywood tomorrow."

"Get out, Mac—you mean Hollywood, California?" asked Bloo.

"Of course California. I don't mean Hollywood, Florida."

"Oh, thank goodness—nobody goes to _that_ Hollywood anymore."

"I'm sorry, Mac, but did you say we arrive tomorrow?" Wilt frowned.

"Well," shrugged Mac, "that's what the tickets say."

As the little boy handed the tickets to Madame Foster (who just so happened to be standing next to the former), the latter read the tickets and looked surprised. "Oh, dearie, where did your teacher _get_ these tickets?"

"I don't know—she never said anything, and I guess I got so excited that I didn't even think about it. Why do you ask, Madame Foster?"

"These tickets were made out several months ago—and to a different address."

Coco face-palmed herself—well, sort of, since she used either of her feet. "Coco."

"She's right, Mac," Frankie sighed sorrowfully, "we don't have time."

"Unfortunately—" said the anthro-Rabbit Friend— "without the necessary arrangements, we cannot leave."

"Gosh darn it!" whined Bloo. "It's that trip to Europe we never went to all over again. Just another one of those 'wah-wah' moments."

The Spanglish-speaking friend hung his massive head down low with a sigh. "And Eduardo was looking forward to it."

"Gee," said Mac, "I'm sorry guys."

"No, Mac, we're sorry. Is that okay?" asked a crestfallen Wilt.

"Wilt's right—" responded Frankie— "we should be the ones who are sorry. Mac, if we had the time, we would have gladly went along."

"Wait a minute dearies!" piped up Madame Foster as she came up with an idea. "Who says we couldn't go? If we just pack lightly and make it in time for the overnight flight, we could arrive in Hollywood in no time."

"But Madame Foster, who would watch over the house? Who would take care of the chores?" Mr. Herriman inquired his friend/creator.

"Oh, don't you worry over that, dearie. The other Imaginary Friends would be able to take care of themselves—especially after what Frankie told me when I came back from my one trip. As for watching over the place, I'll ask Flo and my other friends to do that—they owe me a favor anyway."

"I just thought of something myself—" piped up Frankie— "Mac, aren't you worried that your mother would see you on the show with us? Or that your brother Terrence will rat on you to her? If you went with us on the show, it'll risk our secret getting out."

"Yeah, about that," acknowledged Mac, "I told my mom that I would be off camping with my 'other friends.' Besides, my mom can't stand game shows—she says that they're stupid and a waste of time, so she avoids them altogether. And as for Terrence, heh-heh, if he watched even so much as the first second of a game show, he would get a migraine for a week."

"No surprise on that note. All right, that's quite a relief."

"Then what are we waiting for?" smiled Bloo. "Let's go and Nab That Cash! Nab That Cash! Nab That Cash! WOOO-HOOOOOO!"

* * *

It was nighttime when the group of eight friends arrived at Hollywood (in California, of course). It took them a while to find the hotel they made reservations for earlier and, when they found it, they looked exhausted.

And a few of them seemed a little miffed as well.

"I can't believe the airport lost all our luggage!" exclaimed Frankie.

"Tell me about it!" agreed Bloo. "My lucky paddleball was in there."

"Then it wasn't much of a lucky talisman, was it Master Blooregard?" Mr. Herriman retorted.

"Look Mr. H, I am in no mood for sarcasm right now—I just want to go to bed."

"Aw, come on _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Bloo," Eduardo smiled optimistically, "try to look on the bright side, _por favor_. Think of it as an adventure."

"I'm sorry Ed," apologized Wilt, "but I'm not sure that an adventure could entail us losing our luggage."

Coco's eyes drooped heavily. "Cocococo."

Mac nodded in agreement as he tried stifling a yawn. "I know what you mean, Coco. The last time I was up so late tonight was when Bloo came up with that harebrained slumber party I had absolutely no say in. . . . No offense, Mr. Herriman."

"Of course, Master Mac—" stated the anthro-Rabbit Friend in understanding—"no offense taken."

"Come on, dearies—" beckoned Madame Foster—"we're only a few footsteps away from beds."

As the party of eight approached the counter, Frankie rang the bell. The desk manager, who looked like the old lady librarian from the FHFIF episode "Jackie Khones and the Case of the Overdue Library Crook," approached the desk.

"Good evening ladies, gentlemen. How may I help you tonight?" smiled the desk manager.

"You probably don't remember," said Frankie, "but my grandma and I called earlier today and made a reservation for two rooms under the name 'Foster.'"

"Oh yes, I remember, dear—those rooms aren't available anymore, sorry to say."

"Not available anymore!?" exclaimed Madame Foster in disbelief. "Won't you get out of town! We spoke to you over the phone—those rooms should have still been available."

"Oh, they were available," pointed out the desk manager, "several hours ago. Our hotel policy states that reserved rooms not checked in by six P.M. are to be cancelled."

"Oh, so it's a 'policy,' eh?" asked Bloo in an eerie tone. "You wanna know _my_ policy, lady? First we start with your knees and—"

Covering his friend's mouth and preventing him from finishing his empty threat, Mac faced the old lady at the desk. "I'm sorry, ma'am—it's just that we had a long flight, our luggage was lost, and Bloo here gets cranky when he's kept away from a bed."

The desk manager raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the last part. "I can relate to that, young man."

"Pardon me, madam, but are you sure there are no other rooms available tonight?" Mr. Herriman inquired.

"I'm afraid all rooms are currently booked, sir. Even so, hotel policy states that taking requests for checking into any of the rooms ends at six P.M."

Coco squinted either eye. "Coco. Cococococo, cocococo?"

"Yes dear," answered the desk manager, "you heard correctly."

Coco's eyes grew wide in astonishment. "Co, cococo coco."

"That _is_ shocking, isn't it dearie?" asked Madame Foster to Coco before facing the old lady at the desk. "Oh well, if that's the case, then I guess we'll have to find some other hotel."

The desk manager managed a slight chuckle. "Oh no, dear, that would be impossible. All other hotels would be currently closed for tonight. But I'll tell you what: I'll let you all sleep in the lobby for seventy-five dollars, and I won't have you arrested for loitering."

"Aye, Chihuahua!" exclaimed Eduardo. "That's a lot of pesos for each of us!"

"Oh heavens no, sir, not for each of you. Just seventy-five dollars for all of you together."

"I'm sorry," frowned Wilt, "but that still sounds like a lot of money."

"I know," smiled the desk manager before looking serious, "that's why I want it."

Frankie just groaned. "Fine! We'll pay for it."

After being handed the money, the desk manager smiled again. "Have a goodnight sleep, dears."

Bloo muttered something under his breath before facing the old lady at the desk again. "Hey, do you have cameras working here?"

"Fortunately, yes."

"Drat!" With that said, Bloo just followed the others to the lobby and sat down, begrudgingly.

"Well that's just peachy-keen, dearies!" said Madame Foster in a sarcastic tone. "A fine kettle of fish we're in! We lost our rooms and our luggage, and are forced to sleep in our own clothes! We'll look terrible on TV."

"I know Grandma," answered Frankie, "but sometimes we have to roll with the punches, you know? We're not competing in a fashion show, and at least we can win back the seventy-five dollars and then some on the game show tomorrow."

"I agree with Frankie," nodded Mac, "and Eduardo for that matter. We just have to make the best of it, that's all."

Wilt shrugged in consideration. "When you put it that way, Mac, it makes sense."

"Indeed—" agreed Mr. Herriman as he straightened out his monocle— "and at least it wasn't like that one, quote-unquote, 'game show' I found myself in when Madame Foster and I went to London."

The old lady had a pained yet bored look on her face. "Oh, don't start that again, Herriman."

"I must tell it to them. When Madame Foster was about young Master Mac's age and found herself lost, I was out looking for her. Until some hooligan grabbed me and carried me off to an abandoned alley with a few other people there, where the masked kidnapper, who just called himself the Host, put on an imitation game show; it was Torture."

"Cococococo?" asked the Bird-airplane-plant Friend.

"Or was 'Torture' the name of it?" inquired Eduardo.

"Yes, Master Eduardo," answered Mr. Herriman, "the scoundrel called it 'Torture.' The rapscallion would ask ridiculous questions like 'Who is scarier, me or Jack the Ripper?' 'Who is the better writer, me or Golding?' 'Who perfected acting, me or Sellers?' Apparently the correct answer _had_ to be the Host, and everyone who 'answered incorrectly' would take the lightning round—where he would use real lightning from his fingertips."

"Lightning from his fingertips? You mean the Host was an Imaginary Friend?" Mac inquired in shock.

"Imaginary 'Fiend' would be more like it Master Mac, but I believe so; aside from the fact that electricity came out of his fingertips, the Host had only three fingers on both hands."

"Well whoever or whatever that guy was," shrugged Frankie in a tired manner, "he sounded like a real jerk."

"For once, Miss Frances," Mr. Herriman sighed, "I would agree with you. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured and the so-called 'Host' told us in the end he did all as a joke—a cruel sick joke in my opinion."

"Oh, come now, Herriman!" waved off Madame Foster. "You made that up. You see dearies, it was Herriman who was lost."

"I did _not_ make that up!" objected the anthro-Rabbit Friend. "It was true—one does _not_ forget an experience like that. Oh well, best we can do now for tonight is count our blessings and gain adequate sleep. One performs better in trivia after a goodnight's rest."

Wilt yawned. "True that, Mr. Herriman. Goodnight, ya'll."

* * *

The next morning was the big day for the group of eight as they entered the studio where Nab That Cash was about to be filmed. Around them were the camera crew, the eight other contestants, and the two co-hosts.

"How are you feeling, Mac?" smiled Frankie amiably.

"Excited," stated Mac with a look of star-struck awe, "overwhelmingly excited. I never thought I'd ever get to go on a game show, and as a kid still."

"The moment surely is exhilarating."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Herriman, "and just think—some of the money we win will be rather beneficial toward the house, Master Mac's college tuition when the time comes, saving accounts."

"And maybe a few pesos left over to spend on fun things, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Herriman?" asked Eduardo bashfully.

"Of course, Master Eduardo. Well, provided we win enough to do so."

"Win enough?" chuckled Bloo. "Heck, we'll win _more_ than enough since we're so awesome! Well, I am anyway."

"Look, dearies!" exclaimed Madame Foster happily. "It's the host, Cedric Foxworthy!"

"Afternoon, everyone. You must be the group from Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, is that right?" asked the host in an Alex Trebek sounding voice.

Coco nodded her head. "Coco."

"It's great to meet you, sir—we're big fans of the show. I'm sorry, is that okay to say?" smiled Wilt.

"Of course," answered Cedric, "it's just a pleasure to have you with us today. Now, before we get started, the production assistants provided you a light lunch of sandwiches and juice. Marissa will tell you all about it whilst I go greet the other contestants."

"Marissa?" the little boy asked himself before facing his friends. "Isn't that the one lady who reveals the prizes on the show?"

"That's the one—" winked the blue-colored blob Friend before whispering— "I always found her hot."

Mac and Coco just rolled their eyes since they were in hearing distance.

"Hi there!" cheerfully greeted a voice that sounded like it could have belonged to a Tara Strong character. The voice came from no one else but Marissa, Cedric's fellow co-host.

Marissa was an attractive-looking young lady with long brown hair, wore a sequined dress, and appeared to be around the same age as Frankie.

"Are you really from Foster's?" smiled the female co-host. "I have read so much about the place and all that you do for those Imaginary Friends."

"That's us—" Frankie answered—"well, most of us. Mac here is a very close friend to us and the other residents."

"Aww, he's so cute!"

"Wait. What?" blushed Mac out of nervousness.

Madame Foster on the other hand couldn't help but laugh silently like in the FHFIF episode "Bad Dare Day."

"Cococococo?" queried Coco.

"Oh yes," nodded Marissa, "that _was_ me during that charity soiree."

"Co, coco." The Bird-airplane-plant Friend had a smile on her beak, but then it disappeared as she looked nervous about something and whispered to the female co-host. "Cocococo; cococo?"

The younger co-host felt awkward. "Um, that's sort of complicated to explain. So sorry." She then directed her attention to the rest of the Foster's group. "Anyway, let me tell you what varieties we have to offer."

" _Psst_!" Bloo whispered to the old lady. "Hey, Madame Foster, could I speak to you alone for a sec?"

Quietly walking away from the rest of their friends, Madame Foster focused her attention on the blob Friend. "What's on your mind, Bloo?"

"Okay, I was talking to the other contestants to see if I could find any weaknesses," Bloo started to explain, "when I found out those four dudes there are the Patterson brothers."

"What's the point?"

"Well, those guys have been on six different game shows and won countless prizes and a lot of money."

"So?"

"So I think we should switch teams and join them. I don't care about any of the other two contestants we end up with."

The old lady looked surprised by that statement. "Bloo, I'm surprised at you. We can't just leave our friends out."

"Hey chillax," smooth-talked the trouble-making blob Friend, "it'll increase our chances of walking away rich. Richer."

"But that wouldn't be right—leaving our friends for a bunch of strangers."

Bloo started to look serious. "Let me make it easy for you: the rest of them are deadweight—we need to cut them off before they drag us down with them!"

Madame Foster was just appalled. "Are you telling me we should abandon your own best friend/creator, and three of our other dearest friends—not to mention my own granddaughter and Imaginary Friend to boot—just for the sake of money!?"

"Yes!"

The old lady simply shrugged in compliance. "Okay, I'll do it."

The blob Friend was pleasantly surprised. "Really? Cool."

With that, the two sneaks joined the rest of their group.

"Okay guys," announced Frankie, "I just got word that we'll be on in five minutes."

"I can hardly wait—" smiled Mac "—I'm just so excited. So long as we work as a team, we'll do great."

"Yes, well," smiled back Madame Foster, "there has been a slight change of plans, deary. You see, Bloo and I decided to join the Patterson brothers' team."

Coco scratched her head with either foot in confusion. "Coco? Cococococococo?"

"Er, no Miss Coco," Mr. Herriman corrected, "I believe you're thinking of the Henderson Brothers, the musical band."

"But . . . why do you want to leave us?" Eduardo inquired sadly.

"I'm sorry," frowned Wilt in confusion, "but that just seems, I dunno, unorthodox—and I've never really used the word 'unorthodox' before."

"Now, now, don't take it the wrong way dearies—" soothed the old lady "—think of it as a chance for us to win more cash and prizes."

Frankie, however, could see past that proverbial veil as she glared at the two sneaks. "Save it, Grandma. You both think the rest of us are too dumb to be on your side."

Bloo chortled. "Ohh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. Frankie. . . . Frankie. That's the silliest thing I've ever heard—I can't believe you would think that—even though it is true."

Mac, too, didn't fall for the lie either, glaring as well with his arms folded across his chest. "I can't believe you would stoop that low. _Again_. Call the rest of us dumb—those Patterson brothers are complete dotes!"

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Master Mac!" agreed Mr. Herriman angrily before facing Bloo and Madame Foster. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Oh, get over it!" dismissed the old lady. "We can win the game without your help!"

"Yeah!" exclaimed the blob Friend.

"Don't count on it!" the twenty-two-year-old challenged back. "You two wouldn't stand a chance without us!"

"You tell them, Frankie!" smirked the little boy before looking serious at the two "so-called" friends. "We're going to put your money where your mouths are!"

"Quite!" joined in the anthro-Rabbit Friend as he sided next to Mac and Frankie. "If it's a war you two want, then it is a war you will get."

With the little sparring match dealt with, Bloo and Madame Foster went off to join the other team, while the rest of the miffed friends walked off elsewhere. Of the Foster's group members that were left beside themselves were Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo.

"Uhh, do you think it's still a good time to try and think positive?" stuttered the tall red Friend.

The purple Spanglish-speaking Friend tapped his claws against one another. "I would like to hope so."

As for Coco, the Bird-airplane-plant Friend just gulped out of nervousness.

* * *

The game show opened up with a catchy tune, with lights illuminating over the two teams standing at their respective benches—the one that Bloo and Madame Foster were on was in a red section, while the team Mac and the others were on was in a yellow section—and a narrator with a Rob Paulsen style voice could be heard in the background.

"It's time once again, ladies and gentlemen, for America's greatest game show: NAB! THAT! CASH! And here's your host—Cedric Foxworthy!"

The gray-haired host walked into the arena with a smile and wave to the audience. "Thank you! Thank you everyone! Thank you so much!"

As the background music and applause finally died down, Cedric began his introduction. "Welcome to Nab That Cash, where the first question we ask is how to make fist." The audience mildly chuckled at Cedric's joke as he made a nabbing gesture with either hand. "We have a special treat in store for everyone. In addition to our returning champions the Patterson brothers, we have on both teams special guests from Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends. Let's go and meet them, starting with the red team."

Cedric approached the red team, where he stood next to the old lady. "She is a grandmother of one, the head and founder of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, and lives a very active lifestyle of athletics and traveling, meet Madame Foster!"

The old lady smiled and waved as the audience applauded.

The host then started Bloo's introduction. "Next we have one of our special Imaginary Friend contestants. A champion paddleball-player, an eccentric billionaire, and an award-winning celebrity, he was called to play Rod Tango's stunt-double and can hold his breath for thirty seconds straight, he is . . . Bloo Q. Kazoo!"

The blob Friend acted like a ham as the audience applauded.

"My," chuckled Cedric, "there must be a misprint somewhere. Now let's go greet the rest of the red team."

Quietly talking between themselves, Madame Foster gave Bloo a dirty look. "Bloo, that entire introduction was a bunch of prefabricated hooey."

"Who cares?" shrugged the blue-colored blob Friend dismissively. "Didn't you hear that applause from the audience? They love me."

"Is that all care about? Money, fame, and applause?"

"What's wrong with any of those things?"

Madame Foster just stared at Bloo for a moment before asking, ". . . Can you really hold your breath for only thirty seconds?"

Bloo just shrugged out of cluelessness. "I dunno—never really timed myself. I just had to think of something else."

"Doesn't sound that impressive."

"Eh, potato, po-tah-toe."

"And now," Cedric announced to the audience, "let's go and meet the other Foster's Home group on the yellow team."

The gray-haired host stood next to the Bird-airplane-plant Friend. "Our next contestant is a spelling bee champion who developed her own philosophy and a line of collectible Imaginary Friend cards and bobble-heads—here's Coco!"

With a smile on her beak, Coco waved to the clapping audience with either wing.

The game show host then directed his attention to the one-armed Friend. "Also hailing from Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, he is an avid basketball-player, willing to help others at the drop of a hat, and always makes it a point to apologize for any mistakes he might have made—he is . . . Wilt!"

In response to the applause, Wilt smiled thinly before giving a thumbs-up.

The next contestant to be introduced was the Spanglish-speaking Friend as Cedric read his card. "A Latino Imaginary Friend, he has purple fur, admits to having a fear of everything, and says that he likes potatoes, let's give a warm welcome to Eduardo!"

Despite his stage fright, Eduardo managed to smile nervously and simply raised either hand in response to the applauding audience.

The anthro-Rabbit Friend was next in line as Cedric approached the latter. "Our next contestant is a by-the-book Imaginary Friend who appreciates the finer things in life; he sometimes dabbles in hip-hop, can communicate to Rabbits through nose-twitching, and would politely insist that a dish of carrots must be offered at every dinner, let us greet Mr. Herriman!"

Mr. Herriman simply bowed his head with a tip of his top hat to the cheering audience.

"Mr. Herriman, it says here that Madame Foster is your original creator, is that right?" inquired the host.

"In short, yes," responded the British-accented Friend, "and in long form, no comment."

"How very interesting. And now on to our next contestant: She is the begrudging granddaughter of Madame Foster, serves as caretaker to Foster's Home, and always finds humor in all of Rod Tango's movies, please give it up for Frankie Foster!"

The redheaded young lady waved to the audience in response to their applause.

"So tell us Frankie, how do you feel about competing against your grandmother?" Cedric asked.

"Eh, I'm cool with it," smirked Frankie before looking serious, "because I currently disown her now."

"I see. And now our final contestant on the yellow team—the youngest contestant to ever compete in Nab That Cash history—he is a passionate gamer, is adored by nearly everyone back at Foster's Home, and always helps his mother file her paperwork, let's give a round of applause to Mac!"

The little boy simply wore a thin smile and modestly bowed his head once toward the cheering audience.

"So tell us, Mac," announced Cedric, "it says here that Bloo is your Imaginary Friend. How do you feel about competing against him?"

"Well, Mr. Foxworthy," Mac acknowledged, "let me just say that Wilt, Coco, Eduardo, and Mr. Herriman are my Imaginary Friends." He then angrily looked over at his Imaginary Friend. "And to you, Bloo: You are the biggest disappointment, mistake, and epitome of betrayal since _Cretaceous Zoo 3_ was made!"

The game show host found himself surprised, yet still (awkwardly) smiled. "Well, that doesn't too good." He then spoke to the rest of the contestants as he stood between the two teams (the section of stage being orange-colored). "And now, let's get ready to . . ."

"NAB! THAT! CASH!" cheered the audience.

"That's right, everyone!" smiled Cedric. "So let's get started with some trivia questions. Each correct response is worth one hundred points."

 _DING!_

Before the host could get started, one of the Patterson brothers (with a Craig Ferguson kind of voice) accidentally (yet uncontrollably) hit the button. "Oops, I'm terribly sorry."

". . . Anyway," began the host, "let us begin—question one: The equivalent to the Fourth of July in America, what is the name of Mexico's favorite holiday?"

 _DING!_

"Red team?" inquired Cedric.

"Sorry," apologized one of the Patterson brothers, "my mistake—wasn't ready."

 _DING!_

It was Eduardo who hit his button first for his side.

"Yellow team?" asked the host.

"Err, what is Cinco de Mayo?" answered the purple-furred Friend nervously.

"That is correct, Eduardo—you have helped your team win the first one hundred points."

The audience and everyone on the yellow team applauded a smiling Eduardo as the latter and Mr. Herriman shared a high-five.

"Also," patiently reminded the host, "you don't have to answer in the form of a question."

"Oh," smiled the Latino Friend, "okay."

"All right then, question two: What famous British writer wrote _A Tale of Two Cities_?" _DING!_ "Red team, do you have the answer?"

One of the Patterson brothers answered proudly, "Herman Melville." _BUZZ!_

"Ooh, I'm sorry," apologized Cedric, "but that's incorrect."

"Oh darn."

"Herman Melville!?" exclaimed Madame Foster. "He wrote _Moby Dick_!"

"He did?" asked the one Patterson brother. "I thought it was Charles Darwin."

The old lady glared threateningly at her teammate. "Don't _ever_ push that button again, young man. _I mean it_."

 _DING!_ Mr. Herriman hit his button for the yellow team.

"Yellow team, what is your answer?" asked the host.

The anthro-Rabbit Friend cleared his throat before answering. "It was Charles Dickens."

"Indeed it was—one hundred more points for the yellow team."

Mr. Herriman tipped his hat again as the audience cheered.

Cedric pulled out the next card. "Now, question three: What popular beverage is served warm and consists of chocolate?" _DING!_ "Yellow team?"

The Bird-airplane-plant Friend answered, "Coco."

"That is correct for one hundred more points!"

Coco cheered.

"Oh shut up Coco!" yelled Bloo.

The unusual-looking Bird Friend razzed her tongue in response to the blob Friend.

"Okay," announced the host as he tried stifling a chuckle, "question four: True or False—the name of the basketball-themed family film starring Jordan Michaels is _Astro Slam_." _DING!_ "Red team?"

" _Astro_ what?" asked Bloo. "I've never heard of that before."

"I'm sorry Bloo, but your answer must be either true or false."

"Pass."

". . . Okay then. . . ."

 _DING!_

"Yellow team?" asked Cedric.

"True!" smiled Wilt.

"Indeed it is—one hundred more points." The host waited for the applause to die down before pulling out the next card. "And now for question five: _Tyrannosaurus Rex_ translates to what?"

"Pass!" announced Bloo.

 _DING!_

"Yellow team?" asked Cedric.

"The translation," answered Mac, "is Tyrant Lizard King."

"And that translates to five hundred points for the yellow team, because you helped score one hundred more points Mac." After the applause died down, the host pulled out another card. "And now for question six: Yogi Bear is what than the average Bear?" _DING!_ "Red team?"

"Err, is he better than the average Bear?" guessed Madame Foster.

 _BUZZ!_

"Sorry Madame Foster," apologized Cedric, "but that is incorrect. Over to the yellow team." _DING!_ "Frankie?"

The redhead smirked. "Yogi Bear is _smarter_ than the average Bear."

"Indeed he is—six hundred points total to the yellow team." After the applause died down, the host pulled out one more card. "And now for the final bonus question; the bonus question is very special for our current situation, as guessing the correct answer helps the losing team automatically tie with the winning team. Should the losing team guess wrong and the winning team guess correctly, then the latter will simply earn one hundred more points. So, we're going over to the red team and give them a chance to tie with the yellow team.

"Think carefully, red team. Complete the saying: You can run, but you can't . . . what?"

 _DING!_

 _DING!_

 _DING!_

 _DING!_

"Ooh, ooh, ooh, me! MEMEMEMEMEMEME! Pick me! Pick me!" excitedly shouted Bloo as he hit his button multiple times and waved his arms around.

"Yes, Bloo Kazoo?"

"Chew gum at the same time!"

"WHAT!?" exclaimed Madame Foster.

 _BUZZ!_

"WHAT!?" exclaimed Bloo.

"Ohh, I'm sorry Bloo," apologized the host, "I'm afraid that is incorrect, though certainly _not_ untrue. Yellow team, same question." _DING!_ "Yes, Eduardo?"

" _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Cedric Foxworthy is it 'you can run, but you can't hide'?" smiled the Latino Friend.

"Yes, it is!"

The audience applauded and Mac's group (and the other two yellow team members) cheered; or at least clapped in response, as far as Mr. Herriman was concerned. Bloo and Madame Foster looked over at them angrily, while the other red team members were either dumbfounded or discouraged.

"And the yellow team is currently winning at seven hundred points," announced Cedric with a smile, "and as a bonus for their perfect streak, we're adding another one hundred points to their score, totaling eight hundred points, while the red team currently has zero. We're going to take our first commercial break right now, but we'll be right back before you know it."

"And that's a wrap!" called one of the camera crewmembers. Looking relieved, Cedric walked off the stage to freshen up.

"So, you two, how does it feel to have a zero?" glared, yet smirked, Frankie.

"We'll catch up!" sneered Madame Foster.

"We did not mean the points;" responded a sly Mr. Herriman, "we were talking about your teammates."

Mac chuckled, "I told you they were dumb."

"No you didn't—" frowned Bloo with a cocked eyebrow— "you said they were dotes."

"Dotes _are_ dumb."

The blob Friend growled, as he muttered something unintelligible (though could be censored) under his breath.

"I'm sorry guys," frowned Wilt, "but couldn't we all just get along? I thought we were friends."

"We would have been," glared Frankie, "if that stupid blob and my own grandmother didn't sell us out."

"We don't need you!" snapped Bloo. "It ain't over 'til I say it's over!"

"Yeah!" agreed the old lady. "What he said!"

"We're live in ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .!" announced one of the camera crewmembers. Ending the sparring match on that note, the divided group of eight returned to their respective sides. "Three . . . two . . . one!"

The second part of the game show started up again as Cedric Foxworthy started announcing. "And we are back, ladies and gentlemen! As you can see, the yellow team has scored eight hundred points and in the lead, while the red team is currently at zero."

Madame Foster responded sarcastically, "Thanks for reminding us, Cedric."

"You're welcome, Madame Foster. However, the red team still has a chance to catch up to the yellow team. They will go first to partake in Cash-O-Rama. Marissa, bring out the Cash-O-Rama Wheel, if you please."

The young lady rolled out the Cash-O-Rama Wheel; and on each differently-colored wedge was a different prize.

"Bloo, how would you like to spin the wheel?" smiled Cedric.

In a bashful, yet still obviously pompous way, the blob Friend waved the host on. "D'oh, you're just picking me 'cause I'm the awesome-est on the team."

The host just looked at the egotistical Imaginary Friend blandly in a deadpan voice. "Just spin the wheel."

Marching up to it like the ham he was, Bloo spun the Cash-O-Rama Wheel. The blob Friend and Madame Foster looked nervous, and so did Mac and the rest of his friends (for reasons opposite of the former two). As the spinning wheel slowed down . . .

Bells and whistles sounded off and confetti flew as the wheel stopped at the brightly-colored "NAB THAT CASH" wedge.

"Congratulations Bloo, your team has the advantage to . . ." paused Cedric.

On cue with the host's pause, the audience shouted, "NAB! THAT! CASH!"

"That's right ladies and gentlemen!" chuckled the gray-haired game host. "And you know what that means."

With his eyes half-closed, Mr. Herriman stated blandly, "We are royally shafted."

"Right you are, heh-heh-heh. Madame Foster, seeing as how your card read that you lead an active lifestyle, how would you like to partake in our Nab That Cash Gauntlet Challenge?"

"Bring it deary!" cackled the old lady. "Just tell me what to do—I know these Gauntlet Challenges are different in every game."

"Well Madame Foster," explained Cedric, "all you have to do is put on a wetsuit and scuba equipment, and dive into the tank and collect as much money as you can in thirty seconds. Are you ready?"

"Deary, I was _born_ ready!"

"That's the spirit! Good luck."

The aforementioned tank (complete with a small diving ladder) was wheeled out by a couple of assistants. The tank itself was made of glass with individual hundred-dollar bills wrapped in plastic lining the bottom—that was before tiny fans (with guards over them) activated around the walls of the tank, causing the protected dollar bills to swirl around like they were in a sand storm. Slipping on the wetsuit over her clothes, the old lady then handed Marissa her cane before diving in and "nabbing" as many dollar bills as she could before time ran out.

"And time is up!" announced the host. "All right, Madame Foster—let's see what you've collected for the red team."

As the old lady passed out the hundred dollar bills one at a time to the host, the audience counted out loud. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN!—"

Mac, Frankie, and Mr. Herriman were starting to look nervous.

—"EIGHT! NINE HUNDRED!"

The audience cheered. Bloo and Madame Foster (and the rest of the red team) cheered. Cedric clapped for the red team. As for the rest of the Foster's group (and the two odd yellow teammates), they either looked crestfallen or disappointed—to put lightly.

"Congratulations red team," announced the host with a smile, "against all odds, you are today's champions." He then walked over to the yellow team. "But don't feel discouraged yellow team, because _nobody_ walks out of the game empty-handed. Seeing as how you have won eight hundred points, that would equal eight hundred dollars. So, to show our appreciation for your participation, yellow team, everyone will walk out of here today with a crisp one hundred dollar bill each."

Frankie just glared dully at Cedric. "Bite me."

Awkwardly ignoring the comment, Cedric focused his attention back on Bloo's and Madame Foster's team. "Okay, red team, you're today's champions, but you're not quite done yet. For those of you not familiar, we always give the winning team the option to either take the money and run, or to trade it all for one of our grand prizes. What would you like to do?"

The old lady and the blob Friend conversed with one another.

"Listen," started Bloo, "I say we go for the grand prize."

Madame Foster seemed uncertain. "I don't know deary, I think we should consult with the other teammates."

"Okay, I say we go for the grand prize."

Seeing as there was no way to win the argument, Madame Foster spoke to the host. "Cedric dearie, we have decided to go for the grand prize."

Cedric smiled. "You got it, Madame Foster. Now pick wisely, because behind these three curtains are the grand prizes you get to choose from. Do you choose curtain 1, curtain 2, or curtain 3?"

"Curtain 3! Pick curtain 3!" whispered Bloo.

"Okay," announced the old lady, "we pick curtain 3."

"And curtain 3 it is!" announced the host. "But first, let's see what you did _not_ pick from the other curtains. Marissa, show the red team what they _didn't_ win."

"Behind curtain 1, the prize was . . . a full family entertainment system!" announced the young co-host. "Complete with a hundred-inch screen high-definition TV, a combined VHS and DVD player, a radio that'll play a total of five music CDs, a built-in video game console with every game installed, and so much more for all to enjoy!"

Mac sighed as he looked up at his friends. "That would have been a cool prize."

"Unfortunately, red team," said the host, "that is _not_ what you've picked."

Madame Foster awkwardly forced a smile. "Err, thank you again for reminding us, Cedric."

"You're welcome! Marissa, show them what was behind curtain 2."

The young co-host pulled the curtain away. "A fully-paid summer cruise around Europe on one of our luxury cruise liners!"

"DRAT!" exclaimed Bloo.

"Yes," nodded Cedric, "unfortunately, you didn't pick that prize either. Marissa, show them what they won today behind curtain 3!"

"Today's prize is . . . the Savvy Chef's electric frying pan!" cheerfully announced Marissa. "It not only fries your favorite food, it also grills, bakes, and boils!"

The old lady wore a deadpan look on her face. "And it stinks."

Cedric had an uncomfortable look on his face. "Err, our apologies to the Savvy Chef Company." He then announced in his jovial manner again. "However, we can't let you leave with just the Savvy Chef pan . . . you need something to go in it!"

"Ooh, ooh, ooh, an entertainment system! No wait—a trip to Europe! A trip to Europe with an entertainment system!" pleaded Bloo in all excitement.

"Nope—soup!" announced the host as his younger female co-host wheeled out a tower made up of soup in cans. "A lifetime supply of soup, soup, and more soup—available in every variety of flavors. The perfect prize to especially feed a home for abandoned Imaginary Friends."

However, despite the cheers from the audience, Bloo broke out into tears and cried loudly as he and Madame Foster leaned into one another and the latter patted the blob Friend on the back.

"And that's our game for today, everyone!" announced Cedric as he signed off, while he and a few of the contestants (including a discouraged Eduardo) made that fist gesture from the beginning of the show. "So long, everyone!"

* * *

The next day, the eight friends made it back to Foster's, many of them disappointed. As for Eduardo, however, not so much.

"Isn't it _bueno_ to be home again?" smiled the Spanglish-speaking Friend.

Coco yawned for a moment. "Coco."

"You see, _amigos_? I told you we would have a good time."

"Oh, wake up and smell the coffee, Ed!" snapped Bloo. "We had my lucky paddleball stolen!"

Mac rolled his eyes. "We had our luggage lost."

"We had to sleep in the hotel lobby—" frowned Wilt— "sorry to say."

"To which we had to pay seventy-five dollars for!" added Madame Foster begrudgingly.

Frankie pinched the bridge of her nose. "We practically won zip-o on the game show."

Mr. Herriman heaved a sigh. "At least what little money we won and the surplus of soup for the other Imaginary Friends wouldn't be a total loss."

"Also," grinned Eduardo, "we all made up on the plane ride back home and are _amigos_ again."

"Like we really had a choice?" asked Frankie. "It was between that or having to watch _Daffodil Days_ in French with English subtitles while wearing headphones."

"Either way," Mac half-heartedly conceded, "Ed _does_ make a good point. At least we are finally home—not to mention he helped us realize we need to appreciate the little things in life."

Coco looked thoughtful for a moment. ". . . Cococococo."

"Yeah," nodded Wilt, "that is true."

"Coco."

"Master Eduardo," Mr. Herriman acknowledged, "despite all the endeavors we have gone through in the past few days, I am amazed how you manage to still find the bright side. We certainly can learn something from you, and I commend you for that."

"Oh," Eduardo blushed momentarily, " _gracias_ , _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Herriman."

"You are most welcome. Now then, shall we continue our game of chess from the other day?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Cocococo?" smiled the Bird-airplane-plant Friend.

"Yeah, can we join you two?" Wilt agreed. "We can have a two-on-two game."

The anthro-Rabbit Friend shrugged indifferently. "I don't see why not. Master Eduardo, you are on my side today."

The Spanglish-speaking Friend saluted. "Okay, _amigo_!"

With that said, four of the friends departed.

"You know dearies," spoke up Madame Foster, "it amazes me how our friend is able to stay so happy like he does."

"Yeah, it's almost as if you learned something from him, right Mac?" Bloo asked.

However, Mac and Frankie just stared coldly at his friend and her grandmother, respectively.

"What?" asked Bloo and Madame Foster in unison.

Frankie just glared at them still. "Don't try to play dumb with us."

Mac's already angry-looking eyes narrowed into slits. "You both know very well we are still mad at what you did."

"We said we're sorry!" whined the blob Friend.

"No, that's not working on us again. You two left us and our other friends for the sake of money."

"And I'm especially mad at you Grandma—" the twenty-two-year-old pointed at the old lady —"you purposefully took the side of avarice over me, your own granddaughter, not to mention your own Imaginary Friend Herriman. We have our disagreements, but that is no excuse for betraying us like that."

"But Frankie, Mac," pleaded Madame Foster, "we really _are_ sorry for what we did. Right, Bloo?"

"What? I mean, yeah," Bloo corrected himself, "what she said."

"Like the time you abandoned me on the trip to the fair, Bloo?" inquired the rightfully-angered boy.

"What? I was impatient!"

"Like the time you cheated us out of that trip to Europe, Grandma?" asked the ticked-off redhead.

"Oh, don't start _that_ again!" scowled the old lady.

"The tickets to the Rod Tango movie?" Mac and Frankie glowered over.

Both Bloo and Madame Foster had no excuse, no retort, nothing. Nothing but one response: "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh . . ."

The little boy and the young lady turned around on them with their arms folded across their chests and their noses in the air.

"Oh come on!" whined the blue-colored Imaginary Friend. "We apologized, we promised we would never do that again, what more do you want? Please forgive us! We're on our knees here! (Madame Foster, get on your knees.)"

"We'll do anything— _anything_ —to earn your respect again, dearies!" exclaimed the old lady.

The two angry friends turned around to face the stinkers again, but still looked serious.

Frankie then announced, "Fifty dollars each and we'll call it even."

Madame Foster pulled a couple of bills from her purse. "I only have two twenty-fives."

Frankie and Mac looked at each other for a moment, smirking, and nodded once in agreement before grabbing the money.

Mac, now back to his usual happy mood, stated, "Apologies accepted."

"C'mon, Mac," announced Frankie, "let's go watch a movie in the rec room."

Mac smiled thinly, "Sounds good to me."

And with that, Bloo and Madame Foster were left alone.

". . . Did we just have a 'wah-wah' moment?" asked Bloo.

Madame Foster simply stated, "I think we just did."

On that note, we end with the _Foster's_ musical tune.

* * *

 **And so ends another parodied story at the home of Foster's. I hope everyone enjoyed reading it. To Matt Pickel, I am currently working on your request, and will post as soon as I can. Until then, keep up the good writing everyone!**


	4. Spook, Line, and Stinker

**How's everyone doing? I'm back with a new parodied short story. I know I wrote down in my profile that I won't be doing any requests for the time being (so sorry everyone), but I'm going to make one exception here. To guest reader Matthew Pickel, I bring you (and everyone else in FanFiction) the** _ **Foster's Home**_ **parody to the** _ **Total Drama**_ **episode "Hook, Line, and Screamer," with a little twist of** _ **Predator**_ **just because there needs to be more parodies (let alone movies) of the aforementioned movie monster—so be on the lookout LOL!** _ **Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends**_ **,** _ **Total Drama**_ **, and the Predator are owned by their respective companies. And don't forget to brace yourselves . . . for a load of laughs!**

 **(See what I did there? [Insert Muttley-style snicker])**

* * *

The story opened up in what appeared to be a jungle in the background, while focusing on a clenched scaly-looking fist brandishing metal claws. Intense, rocky-sounding music could be heard in the background. As the camera slowly moved to the left, three humans could be seen: Rod Tango in camouflage fatigues, the black-haired lady from the FHFIF episode "The Buck Stops Here" in a lab coat, and a similarly-dressed Quinn the pizza guy with a cast on either leg.

"All right, alien scum . . ." scowled a game-faced Rod Tango.

The camera then focused on a muscular Mantis-headed monster in metal and leather armor letting out a sound that was a cross between growling and hissing.

Rod then pulled out a hefty-sized gun. "It is time to tango."

The camera backed up to show the situation was just a movie playing on a white bed sheet, the picture itself coming from a projector.

* * *

It was movie night out on the lawn over at Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. A crisp autumn evening, the house was decorated for the Halloween season. Mac, Bloo, Wilt, Coco, Eduardo, Jackie Khones, Flutter-Nutter, Goo, and a begrudging Duchess were the only ones present, while Wilt was in control of the projector (and doing his best in restraining from covering it).

"Ooh-hoo-HOO!" whooped Bloo in excitement. "Showdown between Rod Tango and the monster!"

"I know—it's gonna be so cool!" grinned Goo.

"Uh boy!" piped up Jackie. "The alien's takin' a dead run now."

"C'mon Rod! Stop staring down at him—" pleaded Flutter-Nutter in panic before throwing a wad of popcorn at the makeshift screen—" _and start shooting at him_!"

"I'm sorry, but are you sure you won't be bothered by what's gonna happen next, Mac?" Wilt inquired in worry of his young human friend.

"No worries," Mac rest-assured his friend, "I can handle it—it's just another Rod Tango movie."

"Well okay."

A _boom_ can be heard from the off-screen movie.

"Holy Toledo!" exclaimed the little boy. "The shot sent the monster flying into a tree. Looks pretty ridiculous, to be honest."

Eduardo was trembling in fear. "It still doesn't make the movie any less scary, though."

Coco let out a gasp. "Cococococo!"

"That's right—" Jackie confirmed—"a bomb means it ain't over 'til it's all said and done."

"Let's roll, you two!" exclaimed Rod from off-screen.

Bloo, Flutter-Nutter, and Goo were literally on the edges of their respective seats as they exclaimed in unison. "Run, run! The bomb's gonna go off!"

"Ugh, will the stupid movie end in sudden death?" ranted Duchess.

The blob Friend angrily whispered, "Shhh! No one asked for your opinion!"

Gulping, Eduardo covered his eyes and ducked his head down while still shaking in fear. Wilt looked down at his large friend in sympathy.

Mac started to count down in a relaxed manner, while holding up his fingers. "Three, two, one. . . ."

 _KA-BOOM!_

Yellow and orange lights flashed in front of the group of movie-viewers as about half of said viewers cheered.

"Hey Ed-Ed-Ed! Look-look-look!" Goo bounced in her seat. "All three made it! They're getting in the helicopter with barely a scratch on them!"

Looking up, Eduardo wore a hopeful, yet relieved-looking grin. "They made it?"

In the movie, a relieved-looking Quinn wiped his brow as he sat comfortably in one side of the helicopter, while the black-haired lady smiled tiredly as she rested against Rod's arm.

"It's a smooth ride out of the jungle," smirked Rod Tango, "and back to civilization."

"Yes!" Flutter-Nutter cheered as she glommed onto Jackie. "I just love a happy ending."

Sneaking a bite from his love interest's bag of popcorn, Jackie smiled coolly. "You and me both, sweet-cheeks."

Mac just smirked with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head.

As the movie ended, the projector stopped.

"Well," smiled Wilt, "that is that, ya'll."

Eduardo wiped his brow in relief. "Oh _gracias_. I thought that _mucho_ scary movie wouldn't end."

"Yeah, what scared you most Ed?" Bloo smirked. "The parts where the commandos met their demise, . . . or the HUNTER!" The blob Friend then mimicked the movie monster's growl while making a scary face.

"AHHHH!" jumped Eduardo, much to the glee of Bloo, Goo, and Duchess.

Wilt scolded. "I'm sorry Bloo, but that was _not_ okay!"

Bloo grudgingly stuck his tongue out at the tall red Friend.

"Aw, c'mon, Eduardo!" grinned the overly-imaginative girl. "The movie isn't that bad."

"Goo's right—" Mac affirmed—"compared to the rest of the _Hunter_ franchise, it was pretty tame."

The blob Imaginary Friend simply gave a shrug. "Yeah, I have to admit that one wasn't really that scary. But seeing Rod Tango in it makes it just as awesome!"

Duchess yawned rudely, much to the ire of everyone else. "I do not care—the more psychologically-based horror films such as _An Unstable Mind_ are far more superior. And quite frankly, they are far too sophisticated for people like you who find these mindless monster-based films enjoyable."

" _Pfft_! They're not mindless!" protested Goo.

"Yeah," sided Bloo, "monster movies are just as sophisticated as your psycho-based movies."

The arrogant Friend rolled her eyes. "Do not make me laugh."

Coco seemed to look at her wing as if she were wearing a watch on it. "Coco. Cocococo?"

"Yeah, where _did_ everyone go?" asked Wilt. "It's not like them to miss out on a movie."

Mac looked around in confusion. " _And_ it's not like Frankie, Mr. Herriman, and/or Madame Foster to leave us unsupervised."

Suddenly, the group of movie-viewers heard the start of an engine.

"Wait . . . was that the Foster's bus I'm hearing, or is it just me?" asked the pink-furred Squirrel Friend.

Jackie dusted off his hands from the popcorn and stood up. "Let's check it out."

* * *

A worried-looking Frankie was directing George Mucus into the pretty full-looking Foster's bus.

"Hey yo, Frankie!" called Bloo, startling the twenty-two-year-old. "Where's the fire?"

Panic-stricken, the redhead jumped into the bus full of scared-looking Imaginary Friends. Frankie then pushed the gas, sending the bus swerving down the road.

Everyone else who watched the movie earlier were left behind.

"Hey wait! You forgot us!" Mac called out to the distant bus. The little boy then looked down and found what appeared to be a note. "Guys, it looks like Frankie left us a note."

Mac read the note aloud for everyone else to hear. "It says:

"'Dear Mac, While you and your friends (and Duchess) were watching the movie outside, the rest of us back at the house got word on the news of a psycho killer dressed as the Hunter movie monster being on the loose. I'm currently looking for a hotel for us to stay safe in, but we reached full capacity in the bus and had to leave ASAP. My grandma and Mr. Herriman went out of town a couple hours ago and haven't come back yet. I advise that you and your friends (and Duchess) should stick together, call the police, and find a safe place in the house. I'll get back to pick the rest of you up as soon as I can. Stay safe, Frankie. P.S.—I will call you through the house phone with my cell phone."

"Oh no!" panicked Flutter-Nutter. "Why does the bad kind of irony happen when I'm around?"

"Oh, come on!" sneered Duchess. "Surely, they do not expect us to fall for this. A so-called scary film, followed by a hasty exit, followed by a strategically-placed note!"

Eduardo gulped in fear. "They seem _mucho_ spooked looking."

"It is precisely what they wanted, you fool! It's all a part of their little prank, obviously!"

"I'm sorry to disagree with you, Duchess," declared Wilt in a worried tone, "but I don't think it's a prank."

"Coco," announced the Bird-airplane-plant Friend in a quivering voice before exclaiming, "cocococo!" She held up what appeared to be Frankie's cell phone.

Everyone else (but not Duchess) let out a gasp of alarm.

"Guys," Goo trembled as Bloo looked at her in worry, "methinks it's the real deal."

"Let Eduardo get something straight!" exclaimed the Spanglish-speaking Friend. "Frankie left us to fend for ourselves, all alone, while a psycho _bandido_ is on the loose!?"

"No!" scoffed Bloo slyly. "We're alone while a psycho _bandido_ dressed as THE HUNTER IS ON THE LOOSE!"

"AAAAHHHHHH!" Eduardo hit the ground while trying to hide his head. "It is not funny, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Bloo!"

"Look, dude," sighed Jackie with his arms folded, "panic didn't help anyone, so you really need to try to pull yourself together."

"I can't help it—I feel like I'm being watched."

"Apparently it's because . . ." started Duchess in her usual arrogant-looking ire before her face looked blank. "Honestly, I have no explanation for it."

Somewhere in the bushes, a silhouetted figure was snickering.

Acting as the voice of reason again, Mac spoke up. "Okay guys, it doesn't matter if it's real or somebody's idea of a sick joke—we need a game plan."

" _¡_ _S_ _í,_ _s_ _í_ _!_ " the Latino Imaginary Friend nodded. "We need a game plan."

"You cowardly fools might need a game plan," sneered the arrogant Friend, "but I need a facial—I cannot fathom such beauty going to waste."

"What beauty?" mumbled Bloo to Mac.

"Couldn't you at least _pretend_ to be worried about the situation Duchess?" the little boy glared with his arms folded. "Frankie told us specifically to _never_ go off alone! To paraphrase!"

"I do _not_ take charge from stupid children like you, or anyone else!" snapped the ugly Imaginary Friend. "But if you and the rest of your _idiotic_ friends want to play along with their joke, go ahead." She then turned around and walked into the house with a huff. "I have better things to do, such as exfoliating my radiant face."

"Okay, don't let the Hunter's claws hit you on the way out!" called out the blob Friend with a wave before speaking aside to Coco. "Not that I'm concerned for her—I hope the Hunter _does_ find her."

"Coco." The Bird-airplane-plant Friend then made a cutthroat gesture with her foot, complete with the sound effect.

Goo snickered at the two smirking Friends. "Great sound effects, Coco."

"I suggest we gather in the recreation room and figure out our next move—who's in?" Mac inquired.

Everyone else nodded in response before heading toward the house. However, Flutter-Nutter heard a rustling sound in the bushes before she tip-toed away from the group and into the woods like the ones in the episode "Camp Keep a Good Mac Down." The only one to notice the Squirrel Friend leaving the group was Bloo as he rubbed his chin and pondered.

* * *

In the recreation room, everyone sat on the couch as Mac paced in front of them. "Okay, we need to call the police and hide in some place safe until Frankie comes back for us, but we need to find the safest place in the house. First things first though, we need to have an understanding of the rules for our situation. Rule one: Do _not_ go off on your own. Rule two: If you _do_ go off on your own, _never_ leave the house. Rule three: If you _do_ leave the house, never, ever, _ever_ leave without something to protect you! Now, any questions?"

Eduardo raised his hand. "What if Madame Foster and _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Herriman come back?"

"That's a good question. I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that, though. I don't think either of them brought a cell phone along when they went out of town. All right, let me just do a quick head-count. Duchess clearly doesn't want to take our current dilemma seriously, so . . . Hey Jackie, where's Flutter-Nutter?"

The one-eyed green Friend looked around in worry, seeing no sign of his love interest. "I was wondering the same thing, man. Hey Wilt, where you hidin' Flutter-Nutter?"

"I'm sorry Jackie," shrugged a confused Wilt, "but I'm not hiding Flutter-Nutter. I didn't even see her come in with us."

"And where is _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Bloo?" inquired the worried-looking Latino Friend.

Goo smirked with a shrug. "Breaking rules one through three?"

* * *

Back in the woods, Flutter-Nutter was looking worried. The rustling in the bushes stopped, but now she was lost.

"Ohh, why did I decide to follow that rustling?" trembled the pink-furred Squirrel Friend, not noticing a shadowy figure coming up behind her. "I wish Jackie were here with me—anyone, honestly."

The Squirrel Friend then heard a breathing sound from behind her. She turned around slowly and faced the shadowy figure.

"Booga-booga!"

Flutter-Nutter jumped as she squeaked fearfully.

However, the shadowy figure was just Bloo, chortling away. "I got you good, Flutter-Nutter!" The blob Friend then whooped another bout of laughter.

"That wasn't funny, Bloo!" pouted the pink-furred Friend.

"Are you kidding? It was a riot! Man, you should've heard yourself."

" _Hmmph_! What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Me?" asked Bloo in exaggerated surprise. "Well, I could ask _you_ the same thing."

For once, somebody was humbled by Mac's Imaginary Friend, and that somebody was Flutter-Nutter as she looked down and looked ashamed. "Well, I heard rustling in the bushes and I guess curiosity got the best of me."

". . . Oh. Fair enough. I was just seeing what you were up to, and why you left our group."

"Were you worried about me, Bloo?"

"What!? . . . _Pfft_! Huh-huh-huh! No, that's silly—we hardly ever hung out together for me to even do that. I just know Mac would be concerned if one of us went missing. . . . Or two of us went missing."

"Bloo, please tell me you know the way back to the house."

"I only know how to get back in the daytime! I thought _you_ would know."

"I've never been out here before. Now what're we gonna do?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

"Well think faster—please!"

Suddenly, a low-sounding growl could be heard.

"Bloo, will you quit trying to scare me?" glared Flutter-Nutter. "It isn't funny."

"What?" glared back Bloo. "I'm not doing anything."

"Then where's that growling sound coming from?"

"I dunno. . . . What growling sound?"

The two Imaginary Friends looked panic-stricken before turning around toward the growling sound and looking at . . .

…

…

The Hunter.

The two Imaginary Friends screamed in terror before Flutter-Nutter took Bloo and pushed him in front of the Hunter.

"Here, take Bloo!" exclaimed the Squirrel Friend before running in the other direction. Throwing his arms up, Bloo turned around and ran in the other direction, screaming . . . for about a second or two before running into a tree and knocking himself out.

As for Flutter-Nutter, the pink Imaginary Friend ran as fast as her legs could go before falling into a pit. "Oh no, what'll I do now?" She then tried her best to climb out before someone's hand helped her up.

" _Phew_!" breathed out the Squirrel Imaginary Friend in relief. "Thanks for helping me out of . . ." However, as she trailed off, Flutter-Nutter was face-to-face again with the Hunter before letting out a scared gasp.

* * *

Back at the house, Coco finished laying eggs each containing a flashlight, a walkie-talkie, and a baseball bat. Mac handed the respective items to Jackie, Goo, and Coco before taking the extras for Eduardo, Wilt, and himself.

"Okay Jackie," the little boy spoke, "you take Goo and Coco with you and search for Bloo and Flutter-Nutter. I'll take Wilt and Eduardo with me and find a safe place for all of us to hide. Once you find the others, rendezvous with us next to Madame Foster's bust."

The green Friend saluted with either item in his hand. "You got it, Mac."

"And whatever you do, stay together and use the walkie-talkies—keep everyone up to date—I cannot stress that enough."

"Right!" Goo nodded.

* * *

Following Jackie Khones' group, the three friends went out and scoured the lawn and backyard.

"Any luck, guys?" called Goo.

"No sign of either of them. How 'bout you?" Jackie inquired.

"No—'fraid not."

Suddenly, a familiar-sounding jingle could be heard, and Coco was the first to identify it as an ice cream truck.

"Coco!" exclaimed the Bird-airplane-plant Friend, jumping up and down in excitement. "Coco-coco-coco!"

"Look, I like ice cream as much as the next guy," declared Jackie in a deadpan tone, "but we have more important things to worry about, like findin' my girl. Oh, and Bloo, I guess."

Goo then pointed out, "And don't forget about that psycho running around—it could be a trap."

"Cocococococo?" pointed out Coco.

"You think Bloo and Flutter-Nutter would be getting ice cream?" repeated/translated the over-imaginative girl. "Hmm, I dunno about that. I guess we _could_ check just to be sure."

"Aren't ya'll forgetting something?" inquired Jackie. "No ice cream truck will be around at such time of night—even if it _is_ Halloween. I should know, 'cause I've had the gosh-darnedest time trying to get that online petition going."

"Eh, I'll just follow Coco and satisfy her—she's a little tenacious that way. Besides, we have our walkie-talkies and our baseball bats should we get into trouble."

"True, that." The one-eyed Imaginary Friend then just shrugged. "All right, but make it a quick search. Mac won't be a happy camper if he knew we split up."

" _Pfft_! Chillax—we'll be fine. All right Coco, let's see if Bloo and Flutter-Nutter are around the ice cream truck."

"Coco!" cheered the Bird-airplane-plant Friend.

Shaking his head, Jackie made a short monologue to himself. "I'll just stick around and wait for them. For their sake, I hope it _ain't_ that psycho settin' up a trap. . . . Speakin' of who, how the heck did the psycho escape from the police, and why dressed up as the Hunter of all things? The whole night just brings up more questions than answers. Man, what a time for my girl to be missin', and I didn't even bring me a sandwich."

Suddenly a couple of screams could be heard, making Jackie jump in surprise.

"I'm comin', girls!" called the deep-voiced Friend, running toward the screaming. Jackie then came to a screeching halt while letting out a gasp as he gawked up at the growling Hunter, carrying a struggling Goo and Coco over his back in a netted bag.

Snapping out of his surprised stupor, Jackie put on a game face as he dropped his flashlight and walkie-talkie, and wielded his baseball bat in both hands. "I'm warnin' ya, either you put my friends down, or I'm gonna strike a homerun across your head! And don't think I dunno know how to use one of these—I brought a misfit team to a championship!"

The Hunter just reached down, plucked the baseball bat out of the tiny green Imaginary Friend's hands, and tossed it aside.

His tough guy attitude leaving him, Jackie tried to intimidate the Hunter again. "Err, uh, would you believe I'm a seasoned black belt? True story—you, you don't wanna mess with one of those." He then pulled out a weird-looking pair of glasses that looked like a monocle with eyeglass temples attached before putting them on in desperation. "Um, you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, would ya?"

Still not fazed, the Hunter grabbed Jackie like he was pulling a weed out of the ground, causing the Imaginary Friend's strange eyewear to fall off his face.

* * *

Back at the house, walking through the hallway of rooms, Mac tried contacting Jackie's group. "Jackie, can you hear me? Jackie? Goo, are you there? Coco, where are you guys at?" Mac then adjusted his walkie-talkie and contacted Wilt. "Mac to Wilt. Are you there, Wilt?"

The little boy's walkie-talkie crackled to life as Wilt's voice could be heard at the other end. "Sorry Mac—had to adjust my walkie-talkie a little. Yeah, all's okay on my end. How 'bout you?"

"Bad news, Wilt: I can't reach Coco, Goo, or Jackie Khones. Have you had any luck?"

"I'm afraid I haven't heard from them yet—sorry to say."

Mac sighed. "It's not your fault. I'm just worried that they haven't contacted any of us back."

"Have you asked Eduardo yet?" inquired the tall red Imaginary Friend.

"No, not yet, but I will in just a moment. Have you found a safe place yet, I'm still looking?"

"I'm currently in the kitchen. Maybe the psycho wouldn't think of finding us there and try searching our rooms."

"I'm not sure about that. Listen, I'm going to look for Eduardo—I think we should discuss a hiding spot downstairs next to the bust. Meet me there, okay?" asked Mac.

"Well, okay," shrugged Wilt down in the kitchen, "but would it be okay if I grabbed a few snacks for us? That way, we can be prepared once we find a place to hide."

". . . Oh, all right, but find something that won't be noisy—or fragrant. If that psycho killer comes in here, I don't want him to hear us, or even sniff us out."

"Sure thing, Mac—I'll meet you and Ed over there in a bit."

After Mac hung up with him, Wilt hung up his walkie-talkie and searched the refrigerator and cupboards for some (quiet) snacks. "Hmm, I wonder if making a couple cold-cut sandwiches will be okay. I'm sure they won't be _too_ noisy to eat, and I don't think they'll be too fragrant."

Sensing a presence, Wilt asked the new presence amiably with his usual grin on his face. "What do you think, Mr. Hunter?"

The one-armed Friend frowned in realized dread at who he was talking to, as the Hunter growled at the former.

Wilt started to back up slowly with fear. "Uhh, I think I'll just be leaving now, so—"

Suddenly, Wilt stepped on a banana peel and slipped. The Hunter grabbed the red Imaginary Friend by the feet and dragged him out of the kitchen, but not without a struggle as Wilt tried to hold on to the doorway (only to fail).

"I'm sorry," Wilt declared, "but that is so not okay."

* * *

As for Eduardo, he was scared beyond comprehension. He tried his best to summon up as much courage as he could, while trying to find a hiding place for himself and his friends. "Okay Eduardo, you can do it. Just relax, juuuust relaaaaax."

Eduardo's walkie-talkie crackled to life as Mac's voice could be heard. "Ed, are you there?"

Jumping out of surprise, the purple-furred Imaginary Friend dropped his flashlight and baseball bat as he nervously fumbled around with the walkie-talkie before regaining his composure. "Uh, _s_ _í_ , Eduardo is here. Is that you, Mac?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you okay, Ed?"

"Err, well, uh . . . No, I'm not okay—Eduardo's _muy_ scared, Mac!" Eduardo nearly broke down in tears.

"I know, I know," said Mac in complete understanding, "because believe me—I'm scared too—for everyone, not just me. Listen Eduardo, I haven't heard from Jackie's group yet, so I'm going to look for you. Once we get back together, we're gonna meet up with Wilt back downstairs around the bust, okay?"

"Okay, Mac."

"All right then. Where are you currently?"

"I'm somewhere near the bathroom, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Mac. Do you want Eduardo to wait there?"

"Yeah, just wait outside the bathroom, and I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

"Okay. But what about finding a hiding spot?"

"We'll discuss that once we rendezvous back downstairs. Just try to keep calm—I'll be there soon."

Eduardo sighed. "All right."

After hanging up with his friend, the trembling Spanglish-speaking Friend forgot his bat and flashlight as he walked toward the bathroom. "Okay, just keep calm. Just keep calm. Just keep calm."

As Eduardo approached the bathroom, the doors opened to reveal an angry Duchess wearing a face mask. "The bathroom is mine for the evening, understand!?"

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" screamed the Latino Friend as he ran off and crashed through a window—and parts of the wall surrounding it—leaving a hole in the shape of him leading toward outside.

"Beauty critic!" grumbled the ugly narcissistic Friend.

Mac was running up to the bathroom as he called out. "Hang on, Eduardo! I'm coming!" Skidding to a halt, the little boy found Eduardo's walkie-talkie, but no sign of the aforementioned purple-furred Friend, other than the hole in the wall. Worried for his friend, Mac looked up at the selfish Friend still standing in the bathroom doorway. "Duchess, where's Eduardo?"

"Is it not obvious?" huffed Duchess. "The bilingual fool took a flying leap outside. I swear these people don't know true beauty when they see it."

"Never mind that—Is Eduardo hurt? Was the psycho killer after him? Please tell me what happened!"

"Ugh, there is no killer running around, you stupid boy! And I have no idea what has become of your stupid friend, and I do not care for him—or anyone else! I want my facial in peace—away with you!"

Mac was simply taken aback by Duchess' comment and her blatant self-centeredness—even his best friend Bloo wasn't as bad as her—and simply scowled back at the heartless Imaginary Friend. "And you wonder why no kid wants to adopt you."

"I beg your pardon!"

"You heard what I said Duchess. You know, go ahead and have your stupid facial and hope that you were right about the entire night being a bad joke."

". . . And just _what_ are you trying to get at, boy?"

"Let me spell it out for you: You have been nothing but a total selfish jerk. Your attitude is the reason why you have never been adopted, and it's the reason why _nobody_ wants to be friends with you. As far as I'm concerned, since you care for nobody at all, why should anybody care about what happens to you? I showed genuine concern for everybody here, including you, but you just refute it."

"And why shouldn't I? I am too smart—and of course too beautiful—to fall for such a ridiculous joke."

Mac groaned in annoyance as he rolled his eyes angrily.

"Now if you don't mind," glared Duchess, "I have better things to attend to—my beauty being one of them."

"AAARGH—GET OVER YOURSELF!" snapped the little boy. "You know what? Fine! I have better things to do as well—worrying over the well-being of my friends and finding them! Take care of yourself, Duchess—since that's the only thing you've _ever_ been concerned over!"

As Mac picked up Eduardo's abandoned walkie-talkie and stomped off, Duchess just huffily brushed it off in her usual haughty manner before closing the bathroom door behind her. " _Hmmph_ , psycho killers indeed. It is obviously I am surrounding by dullards."

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. Growling, the ugly Friend opened the door and looked down, thinking it was Mac. "Now you listen to me, you little ragamuffin, if you think for one minute I am going to be talked into joining these shenanigans, you are . . . !" Her usually angry face dropped as she was looking down at a pair of scaly-looking feet before she slowly looked up, only to be greeted by the Hunter, before the latter let out that hissing/growling sound.

Duchess screamed in terror.

* * *

As for Mac, the little boy was still muttering under his breath with anger as he dragged his baseball bat behind him down the stairs. "That Duchess—no regards for other people or their feelings, their safety, their well-being. . . . Talking to her is like beating my head against a wall. She is so selfish that it's making her stupid as well."

Taking a breath to compose himself, Mac relaxed and regained inner-peace. "Okay, I just need to try to keep calm. I need to be strong for my friends."

However, as he rendezvoused around where Madame Foster's bust stood, the little boy found no one around. Mac reached into his backpack and pulled out the walkie-talkie and tried to contact his friends. "Wilt, are you there still? Coco, please come in. Anyone?"

No answer back, no crackle, nothing—it was to no avail. Mac's hands trembled as he stashed the walkie-talkie back into his pack. It was becoming even more serious—Mac was literally all alone. His friends were gone, and their condition he dreaded to guess. Never before had the little boy been so afraid.

"What should I do now?" Looking toward one of the house phones, Mac picked it up and tried contacting the police. However, he couldn't hear anything dialing, and after a second failed attempt, he looked under the phone to find it completely hollow.

The little boy gulped in fear. "Oh man, things are looking bad, really bad. I can't reach Frankie, I can't use the house phone, I don't know if I should even leave the house to get help. Now what am I gonna do?"

All of a sudden, the little boy heard something approaching the front door. Panicking at the thought that it might be the psycho killer, Mac overturned the table that the dead phone was on and hid behind it, trembling as he gripped his bat with both hands.

There was some jimmying with the lock.

Perspiration froze on Mac's brow.

The doorknob turned.

His heart was pounding in his ears.

The door slowly opened.

As the little boy braced himself . . .

"Hey guys, we're back!" called out a familiar voice.

Mac knew that voice. But was it safe, or was it a trick? The little boy peered from behind the overturned table and confirmed his answer:

"Frankie?" meekly asked the boy.

"Oh there you are, Mac. What's going on?" asked the twenty-two-year-old.

"FRANKIE!" Mac exclaimed in overjoyed relief as he ran to his friend and hugged her. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

Frankie confusedly returned the hug back to her young friend. "Gosh, I didn't realize we were gone for that long, Mac."

Breaking up, the boy remembered what was going on. "Frankie, please try not to panic, but I can't find my friends."

"Why? What happened?"

Mac frantically started to explain. "I was getting everyone together like you said in your note, but then I noticed when I was doing a headcount, Bloo and Flutter-Nutter went missing outside. So we split into two groups—Wilt, Eduardo, and I stayed in to look for a safe place for us all to hide until you got back, while Jackie Khones took Coco and Goo with him to look for the others. I tried contacting Jackie, but I couldn't get through to him or his group; Eduardo went missing after I told him I would meet up with him—and Duchess was obviously no help in telling me what happened; and now I couldn't reach Wilt. I fear that the psycho killer got them, and—"

"Whoa, whoa, wait! Slow down, Mac!" exclaimed Frankie in a calm, yet confused, manner. "What note? What psycho killer? I don't understand."

Confused by Frankie's response, Mac pulled out the note and handed it to her. "Don't you remember? You wrote to us that you heard over the radio that there was a criminal on the loose dressed up as the Hunter. After you took the others in the bus and looked for a hotel to stay in."

As the redhead skimmed through the note, she had a look of suspicion on her face. "I don't know how to break it to you, but I didn't write the note."

"You didn't?"

"It's not even my handwriting. Also, there was nothing over the radio about some psycho killer on the loose."

"I'm confused now. What about the other Friends? Why did you look so panic-stricken when you got in the bus?" Mac inquired.

"Oh, right—" Frankie remembered—"I nearly forgot about them. Okay guys, you can come in now!"

At that moment, all the Foster's Home residents came in, each with a box of pizza in their hands.

Carrying a couple extras, Billy the Squid amiably handed Frankie one of the pizzas before heading upstairs. "Here ya go, Frankie."

"Wait, what's going on here?" asked the confused boy.

"Sorry, Mac," apologized the redhead before explaining, "it was the annual free-pizza giveaway down at the parlor—thank goodness we made it in time to take advantage of the deal before they closed. But don't worry—we got a few extras for you and your friends to go along with your movie."

"That's the problem, Frankie—my friends are missing. I tried to call the police, but the psycho killer gutted the phone."

Frankie squinted an eye with suspicion. "Is that so? . . . Those two are at it again."

"WILL YOU EXPLAIN WHAT'S GOING ON ALREADY!" blurted Mac, much to the twenty-two-year-old's shock, before humbly calming down. "I'm sorry, Frankie. It's been a long night, and I'm really scared and confused right now."

"I understand, Mac, but trust me—your friends are okay. There is no psycho killer on the loose."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." She then handed the pizza to her young friend. "Listen, how about you head into the dining room and eat some pizza? I'll go look for your friends."

"Don't you want me to come along with you? Or at least borrow my walkie-talkie?" asked the frightened and confused kid. "I can't bear the thought of you going off alone."

"Relax," rest-assured the redhead as she patted her friend on the head, "I'll be perfectly fine. If it makes you feel any better, I'll take the walkie-talkie along so you can communicate with me."

"And the baseball bat? To protect yourself."

"Sure. Just try to relax—I promise you that everything's fine, Mac."

". . . Well, okay, Frankie. But could you at least tell me what it's all about?"

"Of course—it's all somebody's idea of a twisted prank."

…

…

…

"What?" asked Mac.

Frankie nodded her head. "That's right, and I know who's behind it."

As the twenty-two-year-old whispered into his ear, the little boy didn't look at all pleased.

"How is it that I'm surprised, but the same time irritated?" Mac inquired in a deadpan tone.

"Right?" asked Frankie in the same tone. "I'll be back in a bit—feel free to relax in the dining room."

Going their separate ways, Mac laid his head on the pizza box. "Man, what a night."

Frankie shook her head. "I feel so bad over how shook Mac has gotten."

* * *

Now in the woods, Frankie was searching with intensity. "All right, the game's over—you can come out now."

Just then the Hunter jumped out of the bushes, that hiss/growl sound in the alien monster's throat, and faced off against the angered redhead.

"Will you _cut it out_!" Frankie exclaimed. "Your little joke has gone too far. Now tell me where you two are hiding the others!"

The next thing neither of them expected was some kind of heavy mass falling out of a tree and pinning the Hunter to the ground. The new development made the twenty-two-year-old jump back in surprise.

The same heavy mass then sat up, revealing to be a pained, yet sheepishly-grinning, Eduardo. "Everything _mucho bueno_ , Frankie?"

Smirking, the redhead shrugged her shoulders. "Hmm, more or less."

The Hunter groaned underneath the Latino Friend.

"Okay, Ed," smirked Frankie, "you can let him up now."

"Are you sure?" inquired Eduardo.

"I am positive."

As the purple-furred Friend did so, the Hunter got up and snapped his back in place before reaching up and taking off his head—

Only to reveal himself to be Mr. Herriman the whole time. "I probably deserved that, Miss Francis."

Eduardo gasped. " _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Herriman?"

The anthro-Rabbit sighed. "Yes, Master Eduardo, I was dressed up as the Hunter the entire time tonight."

"Now we got _that_ out of the way," declared Frankie, "tell us where you hid the others."

"If you rather, I will _show_ you two where the others are. Follow me."

* * *

Back at the house, Mac was having himself the first slice of the pizza. "So it really was all a prank. I wonder if I should tell Duchess that she was right all along. . . . Nah, I won't give her the satisfaction. I'm just glad I'll be able to see my friends are okay and let the night end."

As the camera panned over slightly, the Hunter could be seen sitting in a chair next to the boy.

Mac looked over and gave the Hunter a blank stare with half-closed eyes. "Really?"

* * *

Leading them to a white tent-like structure, the three friends went inside and found someone was in a chair in front of a few computer screens playing footage of what was currently going on in the house.

"Is that you, Herriman?" asked an elderly-sounding voice cheerfully, before the chair swiveled around to reveal Madame Foster. "I saw that the other Friends came back from their trip and—"

The old lady gasped in surprise.

Her arms folded across her chest and tapping with one foot, Frankie glared at her grandmother. "The gag's over, Grandma."

"Err, it seems as though it is, eh dearie?" nervously smiled the old lady.

"Don't you 'dearie' me! You have taken your little prank too far! Do you have _any_ idea how frightened poor Mac is after the stunt you pulled tonight!? Have you and Herriman no shame!?"

"Oh, Frankie, don't drag Herriman into it—I admit I roped him in to helping me out."

Mr. Herriman sighed. "It is true. She threatened to take carrots off the dinner menu and left me with no choice."

"Oh," nodded Eduardo, "I know what it's like to have something you like taken away from you."

"Regardless," continued the twenty-two-year-old, "where are you hiding the other friends?"

"Hiding?" asked Madame Foster in surprise. "I'm not hiding them at all—I'm entertaining them with a collection of classic old movies."

Getting up from her chair, the old lady went over to the curtain on the other side of the tent and pulled away, revealing the "missing" friends actually watching old movies on a big screen TV. (The only one not accounted for was Duchess.)

"Cococococo!" exclaimed Coco.

The other friends turned around to see the redhead. "Hi, Frankie!"

"How are you guys doing?" asked the twenty-two-year-old.

"We're doing GREAT, Frankie!" exclaimed a happy Goo. "Madame Foster is showing us these old scary movies from like back in the old days and I feel like I'm watching a museum exhibit in motion! How cool is that, huh?"

"Meh," shrugged Bloo, "I still think they could be given some color."

"So you guys are _not_ upset about the prank?" asked Frankie.

"Yeah, we were at first," confirmed Jackie, "but since it's the Halloween season, I'm gonna let it slide."

"Well, c'mon into the house—we came back with some pizza for you guys." As the others cheered in response, the redhead looked over to her grandmother. "And as for you, Grandma, it's going to be the _last time_ you pull these pranks of yours, got it? I forbid you to do that ever again!"

"All right, all right," Madame Foster complied, "it'll be the last time."

With a confused look, Wilt was staring at something on the computer screen. "Um, guys, who is Mac talking to in the dining room?"

As the others looked at the computer screen, Flutter-Nutter was the first to speak. "If I didn't know any better, I would've said that it looks like the Hunter."

Bloo looked up at Mr. Herriman. "Hey Mr. H, why didn't you tell us you were able to be in two places at once?"

"I never told any of you," began the anthro-Rabbit Friend, "because I was never given that ability."

"Isn't that old footage or whatever?" Goo queried.

"No dearie," confirmed Madame Foster, "these cameras are live."

"So if Herriman is here," frowned Frankie in worry, "then who is that?"

Everyone else looked worried, before Mr. Herriman spoke. "Oh, good heavens."

"Yep," Jackie confirmed, "that's what I'd be thinkin'."

Everyone ran out of the tent frantically back to the house.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mac was speaking sarcastically to the Hunter. "So tell me, you want any pizza before you claim me as a trophy?"

The Hunter just shook his Mantis-like head.

"Okay, you know what?" asked the boy. "I know that it was all part of some elaborate scheme, so why don't you take off your mask. Actually, I'll take it off."

Standing in his chair, Mac pulled and yanked on the Hunter's head, only to no avail.

"Man," stated Mac as he wiped his brow, "that mask must be a part of the costume itself, or maybe the zipper's stuck."

"MAC! MAC!" exclaimed the little boy's friends and they ran into the dining room.

"Oh hey guys, how are you doing?" asked the boy.

"Whatever you do dearie," warned a frightened Madame Foster, "try not to panic."

"Right," sarcastically responded Mac, "I see what you're trying to do. Frankie already told me that you and Mr. Herriman are playing a trick. Well it wasn't funny."

"And we deeply apologize for it, Master Mac," implored the anthro-Rabbit Friend, "but you are in danger as we speak."

"Danger, indeed. I know it's just a costume you're wearing . . . and yet you're standing where the others are . . . which could only mean one thing . . ."

As the little boy trailed off, Eduardo blurted out, "THAT'S THE PSYCHO KILLER!"

"Yeah," slowly spoke the boy, "that's what I was just . . . thinking."

…

…

…

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Mac screamed before grabbing the chair and swinging it at the Hunter, hitting home.

Caught by surprise, the Hunter fell over and groaned in pain as he rubbed the side of his face.

Mac's friends came to his aid just as the Hunter hit the ground.

"Oh man," spoke the Hunter in a voice that sounded like Tom Kenny with an Australian accent, "good shot there, nipper. Didn't see that coming, mate."

"Coco?" asked the Bird-airplane-plant Friend.

"Yeah, since when did the Hunter ever speak?" asked Bloo. "In an Australian accent, no less."

"Right," said the Hunter as he straightened himself out, "I can explain if you want."

"Stay away!" exclaimed Frankie. "I still have the bat in my hand!"

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, sheela—I'm not here to hurt anyone."

"Wait a minute, that voice sounds so familiar . . . Odin Billabong, is that you?" asked Madame Foster.

"In the flesh, Madame F—well, in the imaginary sense of the word." Odin then looked toward Mr. Herriman. "Hey, Mr. H! You remember me too, doncha?"

The anthro-Rabbit blinked in surprise before shaking hands with Odin. "My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes Master Odin. I cannot believe I did not recognize you at first."

Odin put on an Australian-style Stetson hat. "I understand—it's because I was sans hat, wasn't I, mate? And Frankie, I haven't seen you since you were just a little nipper—you really have grown up into a mature young lady."

"Oh gosh, Odin," Frankie looked awkward before tossing the baseball bat to one side, "err, long time no see."

"You can say that again, sheela."

"Yeah, heheh. Anyway, what brings you here, Odin?"

"No reason, other than my mates and I were watching the big premiere of our latest picture, and I thought I'd stop by and say g'day to some old friends."

Mac was again confused. ". . . So, you guys know the Hunter?"

"Oh, sorry about the confusion, little fella," apologized Odin, "'cause 'the Hunter' is just my stage name."

"Mac," said Frankie, "Odin is an Imaginary Friend who once stayed with us when I was your age, before going on to become an actor."

"Strange, I've never seen him in any of the house pictures."

"Yeah, his original creator gave him the ability to turn invisible—you know, a light-hearted joke of his—but even so, it was the only time before his creator came for him."

"True, that, sheela," said the Mantis-headed Friend, "since I simply went missing during that time before my creator found the advertisement for here. These good people let me stay after I told them my situation, 'til my friend found me. After that, the two of us have been inseparable—when he became a movie director, I followed him in becoming a movie star."

"The Hunter was played by an Imaginary Friend?" asked Bloo. "Man, that's cool!"

"I'll say, mate."

Mac couldn't help but set his forehead against either hand as he tried stifling a laugh of surprise. "Man, what a crazy night it has been. Sorry about my behavior, Odin."

The Mantis-headed Friend shrugged his broad shoulders. "Hey, no worries, Mac."

"But why didn't you just tell me who you were? I literally thought you were Mr. Herriman in a costume, and then I thought you were some 'psycho killer'—quote-unquote—in costume."

"Oh, right, well, I was left speechless when you were talking—got all confused. If it's any consolation that was a my-bad on my part as well."

"That's okay—I'm just glad everything turned out okay and nobody was hurt."

"E-yeah, at least not on a physical level. I think I accidentally scared one of the Friends here into a mental breakdown—I really need to remember to leave my hat on."

Frankie then remembered something. "Speaking of mental breakdown, has anyone seen Duchess? I noticed she wasn't with you guys in the tent."

"The last time I spoke to her," shrugged Mac, "she was in the bathroom. . . . Hey Odin, what did the Friend you accidentally scared look like?"

"Really ugly—her nose looked like a Tapir's, wore a bunch of gaudy jewelry and a fur coat, and had green skin, why?"

"Just a hunch."

* * *

After opening the bathroom door, the group of friends peered in and found Duchess curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, as her eyes looked like they were about to bug out of her head. Over and over again, she rambled. "Never come out of the bathroom. Never come out of the bathroom. Never come out of the bathroom. The killer—my word, the killer—big, scary killer."

Seeing her condition, the group of friends closed the door again, leaving the narcissistic Friend in there.

"Should I tell her?" Mac smirked.

"Nah," Frankie smirked back, "let her figure it out."

All the friends had themselves a good laugh as the story ended with the _Foster's_ musical tune.

* * *

 **And so ends another _Foster's Home_ parody. So, what did you think? What are your thoughts on my new OC? Feel free to share your thoughts with me in the reviews—just remember not to use any profanity in said reviews (you can check my guidelines on what I consider profanity in my profile, if you like). Until then, keep up the good writing!**


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